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Other Books by Alexander Black 

Modern Daughters. Conversations with 
Various American Girls and One Man. 
Fully illustrated from Photographs taken by 
the Author. 8vo ^2- 50 

Miss America. Pen and Camera Sketches 
of the American Girl. With 75 illustra- 
tions. 8vo #2.50 

A Capital Courtship. Illustrated from 
the Author's Camera. i2mo . . ^i.oo 

Miss Jerry. A Love Story. Illustrated 
from the Author's Camera. Neiv Edition. 
i2mo ^i.oo 

Charles Scribner's Sons, Publishers 




IVITH ILLUSTRATIO'KS 
"BY THE ^UTHOT{ 



CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS 
NEW YORK . . . MDCCCC 



r^\.-A. r. 



(mi 47 

Copyright, igoo, hy 






Charles Scribner's Sons 



All rights reser-ved 



Library of Congress 

Two CopjR Received 

OCT 13 i9au 



FRST COf Y. 

!AN 7 1901 



UNIVERSITY PRESS . JOHN WILSON 
AND SON . CAMBRIDGE . U. S. A. 



./-5'7?^ 



Q Cf 




Frontispiece Facing Title 

Facing Page 

*' Amanda Maud had a book in her lap " . . 2 

** * Did you know the soldier?' " . . . , 8 

"The thought of Barton would not be put 

away " 12 

** < Nothing has happened to Edith? ' " — . . 28 

*<*I will promise not to sit on the table any 

more ' " 40 

** *Now, be calm for a moment. Barton "' . 44 

" * Don' t speak ! ' she commanded tremulously * ' 52 
" When he had sketched her in the green vista 

of the valley " 60 

** Yes, it was Marcus Hadleigh " .... 64 

** < What are you doing with your gun? ' " . 72 

" * It 's all right, Joe, I'm the real thing ' " . 86 

Amanda, you ain't got no patriotism in 

you' " 98 

vii 



(( ( 



THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 



Facing Page 

* Hadleigh's face was bending over him" . . io8 

* The train worried and sickened him " . . 1 1 o 

* It was like trying to forget his fever *' . . 120 

* But she had passed down the stair" . . . 125 

* Re-reading a letter from Joe " 130 

** You needn't 'a* been so rough, Amanda! ' " 132 

* Her uncle paused at the door " . . . .150 

* * What does she suggest? ' demanded Barton " i 56 
' * You should take my word ' " . . . . 168 

* It was Amanda Maud " 186 

« Nothing was what it had been " . . . . 198 

* * It is after twelve o'clock, and you are 

elected' " 210 



vni 




s*^"*""^ 



PAFvT 
ONE 





MANDA MAUD 

Wiggins had a book 
in her lap and some- 
thing on her mind. 
Amanda Maud was 
seated on the floor, 
her feet crossed like 
a Turk's or a tailor's, 
her knees improvis- 
ing a book-rack. Only Providence 
knows why the book was Milton. 
Certainly Milton never was more 




THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 

completely encompassed by femin- 
inity. 

The girl had looked into various 
volumes which lay near the open 
bookcase. She had pursued the un- 
literary method of review which 
consists in opening the book in the 
middle and letting the pages spin 
under the thumb. Nothing which 
she had discovered by this exhaustive 
system of examination had definitely 
aroused her interest in the books at 
hand. Nor had an occasional strug- 
gle with a whole page of verse, 
here and there, seemed to gratify 
the impulse which had led her, 
after dusting the bookcase daily for 
some months, finally to search its 
contents. 

Yes, these pluckings from the tree 
of literature had for Amanda Maud a 




" /Uiiaiida Ma ml had a 
hook III hci lal^y 



THE GIRL 6r THE GUARDSMAN 

flat taste, when they did not repel her 
by a puckery flavor. Such is the fate 
of books. 

When Miss Lynwood came into 
the Hbrary she was not astonished to 
find Amanda Maud on the floor, 
since that position entirely conformed 
to the girFs habit, but Miss Lynwood 
was not wholly free from a sense of 
curiosity as to the books. 

"Amanda,'' said Miss Lynwood, 
in a tone designed, perhaps, to elicit 
confidences, " I never knew that you 
cared for the poets." 

** I don't. Miss Edith," admitted 
Amanda. " I can't see 's there 's 
much in them — just a lot of words. 
There 's one man here don't seem to 
know even how to make his words 
rhyme together. I wonder people 
waste so much good money in books. 

3 



THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 

There 's more fair readin' in the 
almanac, I think.** 

" Perhaps, Amanda, you did n't find 
the right poets. There are all sorts, 
you know/* 

" Maybe,** said Amanda, absently 
staring at Miss Lynwood's back hair. 
Presently Amanda broke out with : 
** Miss Lynwood, what is love, any- 
way i 

Miss Lynwood turned to gaze at 
Amanda's round, unemotional coun- 
tenance. " Amanda, how long have 
you been in this state ?*' 

" Ever since I came from Pennsyl- 
vania, Miss Edith.'* 

Miss Lynwood chuckled. " I 
did n't mean that, Amanda. How 
long have you been wondering what 
love is?" 

"O," returned Amanda, liberating 
4 



THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 

an enigmatical smile. " I - don't 
know 's I could tell you exactly." 
Then a new whimsical gleam crept 
into her eyes, " It 's been comin' on 
quite a while.'* 

Miss Lynwood was adjusting some 
flowers at the window. " Amanda," 
she said presently, " it is very danger- 
ous when it comes on gradually like 
that." 

"Is it. Miss Edith?" Amanda 
was following the girl at the window, 
following in her big-eyed, unanalyti- 
cal way the fine, serious profile, the 
soft, steady look, the cut of the lips 
that contradicted their own smile. 
" Well, before I knowed Joe Gribsey 
I never thought of such things, and 
that 's no lie." 

" Joe Gribsey ? " repeated Miss 
Lynwood. " Amanda, I don't be- 

5 



THE GIRL (&• THE GUARDSMAN 

lieve there is such a person. I have n't 
seen him, and I don't believe you 
have. You have just imagined him, 
or read of him in a book." 

This seemed to amuse Amanda 
Maud. " You 're dead wrong, Miss 
Edith. There 's a Joe Gribsey, all 
right. You never seen him, because 
he can't get out." 

" Can't get out ? Why, where is 
he? He isn't a — a prisoner, is 
he?" 

" No, Miss Edith, he 's only a 
janitor. He can't get out only about 
one night in the month, so mostly I 
g-Q and see him now." 

Miss Lynwood's eyelids twitched. 
" You are very good to him, Amanda. 
I hope he appreciates your great con- 
sideration for him." 

** I guess he does. Miss Edith. 



THE GIRL (5r THE GUARDSMAN 

He lets on to be pretty far' gone. 
But you can't tell." 

"Where is your janitor, Amanda?" 

Amanda knitted her heavy brows 
and nibbled at her finger. It was 
characteristic that she should fail in 
such exact knowledge. " I forget 
the name of the buildin*. There 's a 
lot of studios on the top floor. Gen- 
erally I see Joe up there. It 's nice 
and quiet. There \s one studio that 
nobody 's been in for a long time. 
The artist went away to be a soldier. 
And he was killed.'* 

Miss Lynwood seated herself near 
her flowers. " What was his name, 
Amanda ? " 

" I don't know \s I could remem- 
ber — O yes ! '' pursued Amanda, 
delighted at her feat of recollection, 
" Barton, Miss Edith ; his name 's on 

7 



THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 

the door. Joe often speaks about 
him. He says that the soldier said if 
he died the place was to be kept just 
as it was for a friend of his 'n who was 
to come from Europe or somewhere 
— why, what 's the matter. Miss 
Edith." Miss Lynwood's head had 
drooped until it touched her hand. 
** Did you — did you know the 
soldier ? '* 

" Yes, Amanda." 

" O — was he the one? Some- 
body told me "... 

Miss Lynwood was silent, though 
she lifted her head again resolutely. 

" It *s too bad," murmured Am- 
anda, uncomfortably. ** It 's too bad. 
I guess Joe did n't know about that. 
. . . No, I guess he did n't. But 
don't you care. Miss Edith. There *s 

lots more. That 's what I tell Joe 

8 



THE GIRL (5r THE GUARDSMAN 

when he says I never would find any- 
body to think as much of me as he 
does and wait so long." 

" I wonder if you love Joe Gribsey, 
Amanda ? " Miss Lynwood was star- 
ing through the window, out across 
the garden to the low hills and the 
September sky, a bitter humor wrench- 
ing her lips. Then she forgot her own 
question. 

** Well, now that 's just what I 
don't know, Miss Edith. I tell him 
I must think a good deal of him to 
climb five flights of steps and sit in 
a lonesome place to talk to him. 
But he 's such a fool ; you know what 
I mean. Miss Edith. He ain't got 
no sense. Mother says that most 
men are that way. Then the next 
minute she tells me it 's a pity I 
can't find somebody '11 have me." 

9 



THE GIRL & THE GUARDSMAN 

Edith was not listening. Her 
thoughts were away to an October 
night when she bade her soldier 
good-bye ; to that frightful day in 
January when news came that he 
had fallen during a desperate struggle 
in the thickets of Luzon ; to that 
poignantly bright day in March when 
the troop came home — came home 
without him ; to that mellow day 
in August, one of those days that 
urge us to forget, when Hadleigh, 
his friend and fellow trooper, had 
asked her to marry him. 

A thousand times in the brief 
weeks that had passed since then she 
had asked herself whether her an- 
swer to Hadleigh was a disloyalty 
to the dead, whether, indeed, it was 
not a disloyalty to Hadleigh, who 
knew of the betrothal, but who 

lO 



THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 

scarcely could know all that it 
meant to her. She had tried to tell 
Hadleigh everything, but the protest 
of a woman who yields is an empty 
protest. She had let the genuine- 
ness of Hadleigh's devotion justify 
her in forgetting her own ideals. 
Her conscience resented that forget- 
fulness, and her punishment already 
had begun. The thought of Barton 
would not be put away. Her fancy 
had followed every turn of his for- 
tunes in those first days. She had 
liked to think that she was not 
sentimental ; but some of that con- 
fidence had gone. After the news 
came, there was a horrible period, 
black as the blackest night, in 
which she saw his dead face lying 
among the weeds, and some terrible 

wound . . . 

II 



THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 

** My dear ! " 

Mr. Amos Tibbetts stood in the 
library door, his shaven Hps working 
impatiently, the tufts of gray hair 
that winged his countenance quiver- 
ing in unwonted excitement. 

** My dear — where is she ? " 

" Who, uncle?" 

" Where is she ? Where is that 
exasperating creature who does work 
and mischief about this house ? '* 

** Amanda Maud, uncle ? " 

** She 's broken into my room 
again ! " — 

** But, uncle ! " — 

" Broken in, I say, and gone 
through like a cyclone. Ye gods ! 
but these things try a man's soul ! I 
can't find any of my papers ! There 
were two bonds on the desk. Heaven 
knows where t/iey have gone ! Burned, 

I 2 




" The tb()ii(fht of Bar I oil would 
Hot be f)ul awcU'." 



THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 

probably, or otherwise sacrificed to a 
savage frenzy for cleaning up ! I tell 
you — 

" I hope they are not destroyed, 
uncle," murmured Edith, with real 
solicitude. 

" I told that fanatic," pursued Mr. 
Tibbetts, " never, on pain of death, 
to clean up my room again. This 
morning I took the additional pre- 
caution of locking my door. But 
she either picked the lock or climbed 
the lattice of the porch and got 
in through the window." 

" O, what a whopper ! " 

Amanda appeared between the door 
curtains in an attitude of pained if 
outwardly composed resentment. " I 
never picked no lock and I never 
climbed no porch. You did n't 
fasten your door the second time 

13 



THE GIRL &■ THE GUARDSMAN 

you went out, Mr. Tibbetts, and it 
was disgraceful in there/' 

Mr. Tibbetts was a short, round 
man, with a baby smoothness in his 
face, eyes usually mild in expression, 
if surmounted by brows which in his 
later years suggested a fretful habit. 
He now fastened upon the house- 
maid a glance of concentrated scorn. 

" Amanda," he said, with uncer- 
tain calmness, ** I have told you re- 
peatedly, and in plain United States, 
that I did n't want to be cleaned up, 
put in order, or otherwise driven to 
drink by your infernal dust-brush 
upheavals." 

** Why, Amanda ! " interposed Edith, 
not without hope of averting serious 
hostilities, *' I told you never to do 
anything but make the bed in Uncle 
Amos's room." 



THE GIRL & THE GUARDSMAN 

" Yes, I know. Miss Edith, but it 
did look so indecent this morn in'."" 

" What is that to you? '' demanded 
Mr. Tibbetts, in a voice that was in- 
tended to be thunderous. " Can't 
I be indecent if I want to without 
sohciting your permission ? Listen 
to me : If I ever find you in 
that room again, I '11 — yes, sir, I '11 
pitch you into the garden ! Do 
you understand ? — pitch you into 
the garden ! " 

" O, dear ! " murmured Amanda, 
her imperturbable face searching, it 
might seem, for some appropriate ex- 
pression of dread, " I would n't have 
thought " — 

" Where are my bonds .? " inter- 
rupted Mr. Tibbetts, in a new thunder. 

" Your what, sir .? " 

" My bonds I " 

15 



THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 

" Don't ask me. I did n't take 
nothin'." 

" Perhaps not, but where did you 
put them ? " 

Amanda shook her head. *'I only 
cleaned up the place." 

" Yes," snorted Uncle Amos, 
" that 's all — just heaved things 
around, just tossed valuable documents 
and priceless memoranda into crazy 
places, pitchforked papers and letters 
into cracks and corners where I shall 
never find them — that's all!" 

** Uncle," pleaded Edith, '^Amanda 
and I will go and look for the bonds. 
I am sure that Amanda will never 
disturb your room again." 

" I wish I had your hopeful dis- 
position ! " cried Uncle Amos, as they 
left him. " You don't know her. 

She '11 be at it again, unless you bar 

16 



THE GIRL & THE GUARDSMAN 

the door, fasten on iron safety shutters, 
and put her in chains — in the cellar ! 
Only cleaned up the place / '* and Mr. 
Tibbetts, with a final snort, stalked out 
into the garden, where he ruminated 
savagely among his chrysanthemums. 

He might have enjoyed the 
thought of Amanda confronted by her 
own devastation, had it been possible 
to fancy that creature as possessing a 
sensibility that might be assailed by 
remorse. It was but too clear that 
the derangement of his room had 
afforded her a superior feminine joy, 
that she applied herself to the rescue 
of his sanctuary as a religious enthusi- 
ast might have applied herself to the 
salvation of his soul. 

It occurred to him to wonder, as it 
had a score of times before, what had 
implanted this form of vice in woman, 

a 17 



THE GIRL <Sr THE GUARDSMAN 

why it was a form of vice so dis- 
tinctively feminine. In what avenue 
of psychological study was a man to 
find explanation for that form of per- 
versity in women which makes them 
assail the natural symmetry of man's 
surroundings under the sad hallucina- 
tion that they are restoring order ? 
Could any longing be more pathetic or 
more maddening than that to which 
women yield when they inflict upon 
an absent or subdued man the monu- 
mental irony known as cleaning up ? 
The whole problem was profoundly 
inexplicable. 

When Edith came down the path 
she had the missing papers in her 
hand. " And Amanda has promised, 
uncle, never to do it again." 

" Don't you believe her, my dear,'* 
growled Uncle Amos, taking his 

i8' 



THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 

bonds resignedly, '* the appetite.is too 
strongly rooted. You can't eradicate 
those cravings so easily. She may 
swear to reform, and she may mean 
it. I have known those things to 
happen. But in a few days, at some 
critical juncture, when I have the 
topography of my effects firmly fixed, 
the appetite will seize her once more, 
and then it will be the old story. 
O, I see, my dear, that you don't feel 
the annoyance of these things '* — 

"I assure you, uncle," protested 
Edith, but Uncle Amos had a keen 
glance. 

" Yes, I know, I know. Never- 
theless, you don't feel — you can't 
feel — the gravity of this thing. It 
is not to be expected. You are too 
young, and you are a woman yourself. 
Your superior sense may restrain you, 

^9 



THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 

but your instinct, doubtless, dulls your 
resentment for this form of destruc- 
tiveness.** 

** Uncle, I don't wish to appear 
unsympathetic, but should n't you 
pardon something to the spirit of 
order — even if it is imperfectly ex- 
pressed by poor Amanda ? '' 

** Order ! " returned Uncle Amos, 
with a fretful turn ; ** order ! That 's 
just it! You call this devastation 
order ! — But you can*t reason about 
these things with a woman ! You 
can't make her see that the true order 
is the condition that she disturbs. It 
is useless. I tell you, Edith, that if 
a woman made the world, all trees 
would grow in straight lines, every 
hill would be symmetrically conical, 
every river would move at true angles. 
A feminine creator would have placed 



20 



THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 

the planets in a proper curve, the 
largest at one end, the smallest at the 
other, have straightened the handle 
of the J3ipper and mopped up the 
Milky Way. Science has tried to 
explain the thing a thousand times by 
saying that she has no constructive 
sense. But of course you can't ex- 
plain a woman. It w^ould be sacri- 
legious presumption.'' 

" It is dreadful, uncle, to think that 
we have staggered science in this 
way, but you must take my word that 
we are trying to do better. At all 
events, you have Amanda's promise, 
and you have mine. Things will go 
better." 

"You mean, I suppose, that they 
will not go, — that they will be let 
alone. I hope so. I am an optimist, 
after all. I really believe you." 

21 



THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 

Then Mr. Tibbetts looked up. Edith 
was in a quiet mood despite her 
banter. 

" I am going out for a little while," 
she said presently. " But I shall be 
back very soon. I am expecting a 
caller at four. Amanda will be 
away.'' 

"Thank heaven!'' muttered Mr. 
Tibbetts. 

" If Mr. Hadleigh calls will you 
tell him" — 

" That you slipped out ? " 
"No — that I am expecting him." 
" Yes, yes." Uncle Amos gave her 
a furtive glance. He followed her 
toward the house. The mention of 
Hadleigh's name had set him think- 
ing. That Hadleigh affair was all 
right, of course. Why not ? It was 
a wholly satisfactory solution of the 

22 



THE GIRL (5r THE GUARDSMAN 

difficulty. Yet Edith was strangely, 
ominously quiet at times. She did 
not seem happy. She was not the 
Edith she had been in those other 
days — in the Barton era. No, she 
certainly had changed. Even her 
occasional lightness could not be 
trusted. It was not real. " She 
thinks too much about the other one," 
said Mr. Tibbetts to himself, and this 
was a fact to be regretted, to be re- 
sented. 

Why should a girl harbor a senti- 
mental notion of this sort ? — for it 
was sentimental. Mr. Tibbetts stood 
at the window staring down the road 
in the direction of her vanishing fig- 
ure, watching the pale flicker of her 
gown against the dull greens of the 
fading season. That other afl^air was 
ended, — ended in the one final, irre- 

23 



THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 

trievable way. When a man is dead 
he is dead, and that Is the end of it. 
Whimpering will not fetch him back. 

Unanswerable, Uncle Amos, but 
what is this at the library door ? 
What is this image in khaki outlined 
against the shadow of the hall? It 
might have been the image of Uncle 
Amos's thought, but it was not. It 
was a living image — Uncle Amos 
might have heard its deep breathing 
had he been less engrossed by his 
reverie. 

Edith, reasoned Uncle Amos, with 
a feeling oi being entirely judicial, 
had been wise to accept Hadleigh. 
Hadleigh was a good fellow. There 
were a score of reasons why a girl's 
second choice should be better than 
her first. Why should she be satis- 
fied ? ** And yet," Uncle Amos shook 

'*4 



THE GIRL (5r THE GUAl^DSMAN 

his head slowly, regretfully, **she 
thinks too much about the other 
one." 

The other one — heavens! was this 
he — Barton in the flesh. Barton ex- 
tending his hand. Barton the dead 
back to life. Barton crying, ** How 
are you. Uncle Amos ? Don't you 
know me in this rig?" 



25 




art Ywo 



OR the length of an 
incredulous moment 
Uncle Amos was 
speechless. *^ My 

God ! " he gasped at 
last. ** Barton ) you 
alive?" Then fol- 
lowing the impulse 
to fortify his doubt he 
faltered, **How did you get in?'' If 
Barton had dropped through the ceil- 
ing he certainly might not be real. 
" Get in, Uncle Amos ? Blew in 

at the side gate, as usual ! " 

26' 



THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 

'* And you — you actually are alive, 
Barton ? You " — 

" Yes, Uncle Amos, alive and 
kicking — at the time it took to get 
here. You all thought I w^as dead — 
and I did have a close call '* — 

" But, Barton — the despatches" — 
" The despatches lied and my 
letter didn't go. Everything went 
wrong. Where 's Edith ? '* 

** Edith ? '' Uncle Amos's arms 
dropped. " O, yes, Edith '' — a new 
emotion seized the man. ** Barton 
— this is very unfortunate ! " 

" Unfortunate } Mr. Tibbetts '' — 
" Understand me. Barton " — 
" I am reported dead," went on the 
soldier, scanning the other resentfully, 
a mystification behind his resent- 
ment ; " and I am not dead. I have 
had a rough time squeezing back into 

27 



THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 

the troop of the living, and a devilish 
journey home *' — 

** Ah ! Barton! you don't see" — 

** Mr. Tibbetts — what 's wrong ? 
Nothing has happened to Edith ? 
She is not " — 

" No, my boy, she is n't yet — 
but" — 

** Is n't yet? Is she ill ? Tell me!" 

** No, no ! But can't you see ! — 
you are supposed to be dead. To all ap- 
pearances you have been dead. Barton." 

** I admit that." 

** And you have been dead — as it 
were — for quite a time, and during 
that period — well, you can see. Bar- 
ton, that if one man dies, a young 
woman might take up with another. 
She can't " — 

Barton moved impatiently. " Par- 
don me, Mr. Tibbetts," he cried, 

28 




*' 'Noihiiig has happened 
to Edith?'" 



THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 

catching the older man by the sleeve, 
" I don't want to be rough, but have 
it out. What are you driving at ? 
You don't mean" — 

" Yes, I do. Barton. Edith has 
accepted another man." 

The soldier shrank as if he had 
received a sharp blow. " Whom ? " 
he then demanded. 

" Hadleigh,'' returned Mr. TPibbetts. 
" Eh — you knew him. Barton ?" 

The soldier walked to the win- 
dow, folding his arms with a quiver- 
ing gesture. " O, yes ! He is my 
friend. . . . She did n't wait very 
ong. 

" He did n't wait very long, Bar- 
ton. That was the way of it. And 
so it was settled. You can see at a 
glance how unfortunate your coming 
home is." 

29 



THE GIRL ir THE GUARDSMAN 

Barton nodded slowly. " How 
unfortunate ! " Then he swung 
about as if to discover whether this 
was not a misplaced jest. " This is 
a cheerful welcome, Mr. Tibbetts, 
for a man returned from the grave. 
But your joke is untimely. In all 
of that long struoo-le back to life, 
throughout the bitterness of my dis- 
appointment in finding that my letter 
had not left the hospital, during all 
of those hard weeks on the sea and 
this journey from the coast, I have 
had one thought to lift and nerve me. 
I have seen the light of this house, 
the dearer light of her eyes. And 
when at last I cross the threshold it is 
to be told that I am a disaster " — 

** But, Barton, you don't under- 
stand how dreadfully untimely, what 
an awkward moment " — 

30 



THE GIRL (5r THE GUARDSMAN 

Again Barton caught him by the 
arm. " Mr. Tibbetts ! — if you are 
conceahng anything, if you are de- 
ceiving me — She is n't being mar- 
ried — to-day ? " — 

** No, no. Barton, not that. Be 
cahn, my boy, be cahn ; you must 
admit that nothing is to be gained 
by rashness. The fact is that she is 
engaged to the other man." 

" BeHeving me dead." 

" Yes; but don't be too positive in 
your inferences, Barton. Very im- 
portant things have happened in these 
eight months. As a result of this 
new alHance — now, understand me. 
Barton, I am simply unfolding the 
facts, placing before you the history 
of the situation." 

** I am listening." 

" As a result, I say, of this new 
3^ 



THE GIRL (5r THE GUARDSMAN 

alliance, the Hadleigh crowd has 
thawed out in a wonderful way/' 

"What is that to me?'' hurled 
Barton. '* Am I to be comforted 
by the fact that there is a freeze or 
a thaw in the Hadleigh family ? '* 

*' No, my boy, but Hadleigh's 
father is a powerful man, and he 
has seen a pretty chance to do a 
nice thing for Edith and me — he 
has just taken it into his obstinate 
old head to put me forward for Vice- 
President of the Corporation — Vice- 
President, Barton ! All going well 
I shall be elected to-morrow — and 
here you are to-day ! " 

Barton had begun to pace the 
floor. He now stopped and peered 
at Mr. Tibbetts with a hard smile 
on his lips. " What do you wish 
me to do.?" he demanded ; " com- 

32 



THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 

mit suicide ? It annoys me to be 
inappropriate." 

" Barton," returned Mr. Tibbetts, 
seated tentatively on the edge of a 
chair, and bending forward with his 
hands on his knees, " Did you ever 
hear of Enoch Arden ? " 

" Yes," admitted Barton, " and I 
always thought " — 

" You always thought he was an 
old fool, I suppose, because he turned 
away and left her with the other 
man. You are younger. Barton — 
I am not jesting. Barton, I '' — 

" Mr. Tibbetts, I am not built that 
way. Moreover, Edith is not mar- 
ried to the other man. There is no 
parallel or other justification for your 
pleasantry/' 

" I insist. Barton, that I am not 
jesting." 

3 33 



THE GIRL & THE GUARDSMAN 

"And I insist, Mr. Tibbetts, that 
you shall not torture me. Where is 
Edith? I shall see her! Nothing 
that has happened denies me that 
privilege." 

Mr. Tibbetts placed a restraining 
hand on the soldier's arm. " No, 
Barton. She is not in the house. Be 
patient ! Do you want to spoil every- 
thing ? Do you want to make us all 
unhappy ? Do you find anything so 
unpardonably grotesque in what I 
have said ? I am not blaming you 
for being alive." 

" Thanks," said Barton. 

Mr. Tibbetts ignored the irony. 
"You are here and must be reckoned 
with.'' 

**Now you are talking,'* said 
Barton. 

** You being alive, there is always 
34 



THE GIRL 6r THE GUARDSMAN 

the chance that Edith may throw 
over Iladleigh/' 

** That seems reasonahle," suggested 
the soldier. 

*' The chance, I say. But you 
need not imperil that chance. Will 
you make the most of it by rushing 
matters? Take a large view of the 
case — an impersonal view. Barton, 
and you will see that I am not un- 
reasonable. What am I asking but 
a proper pause, a proper caution ? 
To-day you are a calamity. To- 
morrow — after twelve o'clock noon 
— you would be only " — 

" Only an occurrence,*' offered 
Barton. 

" Save your sarcasm. Barton. There 
is nothing selfish in what I am asking 
of you. Ah, my dear boy ! it would 
be a different matter to-morrow — 

35 



THE GIRL <Sr THE GUARDSMAN 

after twelve noon! Heavens! there's 
Edith ! '' 

They both had started. Mr. Tib- 
betts placed his hands fervently on 
Barton's shoulders. " Barton ! — for 
my sake, for her sake, for your own 
sake, do not show yourself yet — hide 
yourself somewhere here — for this 
time. Barton ! — to-morrow " — 

It came to Barton afterward that 
his grotesque scramble for conceal- 
ment behind the corner of the screen 
near the table — a scramble in which 
he was feverishly assisted by Mr. 
Tibbetts — cost him more than the 
most trying moment of his cam- 
paign. It was only afterward that a 
sense of its absurd theatricalism came 
to him, for in that moment every- 
thing else faded in the sound of her 
voice. 

36 



THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 

*' Why, uncle ! are you still upset 
over Amanda Maud? What a poor 
philosopher you are, after all." 

"Yes, Edith," faltered Mr. Tibbetts, 
in a supreme effort to soften the out- 
ward lines of his perturbation. ** I 
am a very poor philosopher. Now, 
with you, Edith, it is very different. 
You are a real philosopher. You 
don't let things needlessly worry you. 
It — it is a great gift," he pursued, 
watching Edith as she crossed the 
room in the direction of the table, — 
<* a great gift, Edith ! " His hand 
reached as if to restrain her. ** Don't 
sit on the table ! '' 

She had, indeed, followed a girlish 
habit, and with one foot on the floor 
was swinging the other from over the 
corner of the table in close proximity 
to the hidden visitor. 

37 



THE GIRL &- THE GITARDSMAN 

" Why, what is the matter, uncle?'* 

She herself was in no tranquil- 
lity at that moment. Hadleigh 
was late. 

** But it is so extraordinary," ex- 
claimed her uncle, ** for a girl of your 
age to sit on the table. Perhaps I 
am getting nervous, or I should 
ignore such exhibitions o( impro- 
priety. However — please get off 
the table ! " This was at the un- 
wonted spectacle ot Barton kissing 
the hem oi her gown, his face as 
white as the hem. 

**What risks some people take," 
remarked Mr. Tibbetts equivocally, 
as Edith crossed to the window. 
"Can't you see that the table might 
upset or break under you ? The act 
was not only inelegant, my dear, but 
danQ:erous." 



THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 

" Uncle, you must take a nerve 
tonic. You are getting more excit- 
able every day." 

" Then you, Edith, must consider 
the condition of my nerves. It is for 
you not to offend them. But don't 
worry over me," Mr. Tibbetts went 
on, a furtive eye on the not sufficiently 
invisible soldier. " Just go and do 
something to occupy yourself — to 
amuse yourself, my dear." 

** The simple truth is,'* said Edith, 
advancing upon Uncle Amos with a 
look of perplexed investigation, " that 
I never saw you act so queerly." 

" There! '' protested Mr. Tibbetts, 
his voice rising, " you are going to sit 
on that table again ! I can feel it in 
my bones. What makes you so restless 
that you have to go about the house 
sitting on tables in this manner ? " 

39 



THE GIRL <5r THE GUARDSMAN 

Mr. Tibbetts pre-empted the corner 
of the table. " If you think that the 
decorative proprieties require that 
some one should sit on the table I 
might sacrifice myself," and Mr. Tib- 
betts essayed to lift one of his plump 
legs over the table edge. For reasons 
directly associated with the shortness 
of his stature the effort was ludicrously 
unsuccessful. 

" Fool! " thought Barton. " This 
man is fit for a farce." 

" You are making a great sacrifice, 
uncle," said Edith, with a shadowy 
smile and a glance at her watch. *' I 
will promise not to sit on the table 
any more." 

** Thank you, my dear." Mr. 

Tibbetts looked uneasily after the girl 

as she moved away, and in a moment 

of irresolution following her departure 

40 




*' */ will /^roiii/Si' uol to sil UN 
I be lablt' any luoiw'' " 



THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 

he grunted to Barton, " Stay -where 
you are ! " 

" What did you say, uncle ? '' came 
Edith's voice from the hall and her 
restless figure returned to the door- 
way. 

"O! — I — I only remarked, 
Edith, that there is no reason why 
you should go away angry. I am 
a little upset — by business matters, 
you know ; and then that Amanda 
Maud " — 

It might have been thought that 
the name summoned the irrepressible 
Amanda, for at that moment she por- 
tentously appeared — a miracle which 
freshly astounded Mr. Tibbetts, who 
had supposed she was out of the house. 
What special providence had carried 
Barton to the side door and into the 
library without her knowledge? 

41 



THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 

** You said I might go out this 
afternoon. Miss Edith." 

" Yes," interjected Mr. Tibbetts, 
upon whom the effect of compHcat- 
ing circumstances bore more heavily 
every moment ; *' please let her go, 
Edith. She needs more of the open 
air. She is too much confined to the 
house. I have observed this lately. 
It is unwise. If ever you wish to go 
out, Amanda, ask me ! " 

*' Uncle!" was all that Edith ven- 
tured to say in reproof of this extraor- 
dinary interference in her domestic 
authority. Her saying nothing more 
was, perhaps, the worst of rebukes. 

Amanda bestowed upon Mr. Tib- 
betts one of her inexplicable looks 
of inquiry. Her habits of classifica- 
tion were necessarily rudimentary, and 
she never had succeeded in fixing Mr. 



THE GIRL (Sr THE GUARDSMAN 

Tibbetts's place in the order of crea- 
tion. At this hour he seemed to her 
to be particularly queer and unac- 
countable, though her mystification 
was scarcely so deep as Edith*s. 

The acute stage of Mr. Tibbetts's 
perturbation appeared in the gasp of 
relief with which he greeted what 
appeared to be the safe departure of 
the two women — Edith to her room, 
Amanda to the outer world. 

'' Ah ! Barton ! you can see what 
a terrible affair this is to me ! Thank 
heaven we are rid of Amanda Maud. 
But Edith — she will not go out, and 
we must be careful. She is expecting 
some one — she is expecting Had- 
leigh/' 

Barton arose from the cramped 
position in which he had endured 
more than physical distress. " Then 

43 



THE GIRL & THE GUARDSMAN 

I will see her now ! " he said, with 
ominous finality. 

Mr. Tibbetts clutched him des- 
perately. ** Hush ! '' he pleaded. 
** Barton ! — you would n't spoil every- 
thing in your rash, impetuous way ? 
Listen. Can you expect to help mat- 
ters by reckless behavior f Remem- 
ber that she has accepted him — yes, 
I know ; it was under a misapprehen- 
sion, but — hush ! come with me a 
moment ! '' and Mr. Tibbetts half 
dragged Barton out through the pas- 
sage into the extension room. 

**Now, be calm for a moment. 
Barton ! " 

" Be calm yourself ! " retorted Bar- 
ton, wrestling with his growing im- 
patience. 

" I 'm calm enough. Barton,'* ex- 
postulated Mr. Tibbetts, his eyebrows 

44 




** 'Now, he calm fur a iiio- 
meiil , Baiion.' " 



THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 

twitching. " It 's you. You won't 
listen. You don't see that this thing 
has to be approached with deUcacy — 
dehcacy, my friend ! Of course see- 
ing Edith seems hke a very impera- 
tive necessity with you. But what 
has happened, has happened. You 
want to brush all that away. *■ I am 
here,' you say, ' and that changes 
everything/ But does it change 
everything ? Does it make it less 
dangerous for you to rush into her 
presence r Would not that shock be 
terrible in the first place ? " 

" Then go and break it to her as 
you think best," Barton demanded. 
He swung about again. "No, we 
shall do better.' 

** Better?" echoed Mr. Tibbetts. 

"What you say may be true, Mr. 
Tibbetts. If she has become attached 

45 



THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 

to another there is occasion for some 
hesitation. I have a lover's con- 
fidence." 

Mr. Tibbetts nodded. 

" Yet I think I know her better 
than any one else. Even if — if she 
loved Hadleigh, I still should go to 
her. I still should think I had the 
right to go, understand. But I am 
willing to try her. When you ask 
me to wait until to-morrow you ask 
too much " — 

" Barton ! '' 

'* You ask too much. This night 
would kill me if I had not seen her." 
Barton took a turn across the room. 
**Yes, it would kill me. But if she 
really loves him I — I shall go." 

" What shall you do, Barton ? " 

Mr. Tibbetts peered inquiringly at 

the restless figure in khaki as it 

46 



THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 

moved away from him and returned 
again. The soldier stopped in front 
of him and placed a strong hand on 
his shoulder. 

" This shall be the way," said 
Barton, with an impetuous slowness. 
"Go and tell her that Hadleigh is 
here." 

" Hadleigh ? " Mr. Tibbetts half 
turned his head. "What do you 
mean ? " 

" I ask you to go and tell her that 
Hadleigh is here. I soon shall see 
whether she loves him. I could not 
be deceived." 

" Barton, that is absurd. This 
is no jest. You may think it fan- 
tastic that I should ask you to con- 
ceal your return until to-morrow. 
But wise reasons affecting us all — 
you as well — are behind that re- 

47 



THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 

quest. Now you propose some ridic- 
ulous trick. Tell her Hadleigh is 
here ? I should feel forced to go 
and tell her that you are here and 
be done with it." 

" As you like," said Barton, turn- 
ing away with a gesture that was 
undebatable, " so that you do me the 
justice to say it quickly." 

Mr. Tibbetts left the room in pro- 
found confusion. Clearly, argument 
with Barton was at an end. The 
soldier was hopelessly obstinate in his 
determination to see Edith. There 
was nothing more to be done. If he 
chose to bring disaster, there was no 
help. All the same it was excessively 
annoying. The vice-presidency of 
the Fordwell Company was as good 
as gone already. Mr. Tibbetts re- 
belled against this ill stroke of for- 

48 



THE GIRL (S- THE GUARDSMAN 

tune. His rebellion deepened his 
confusion as he climbed the stair 
toward Edith's room. 

Then he paused as he heard the 
rustle of her gown. " Edith," he 
blurted, " he is here." 

Whether the equivocal character 
of this message appeared to him as he 
descended the stair again is much to 
be doubted. Certainly no thought of 
Hadleigh was with him at the mo- 
ment of his announcement. That 
it all was over — that was his one 
emotion. 

He went back to Barton with his 
face lowered, his hands fidgeting be- 
hind him. His manner misled the 
younger man. 

" What have you said to her } " 
Barton inquired perplexedly. 

Mr. Tibbetts was resentfully mute. 

4 49 



THE GIRL <&- THE GUARDSMAN 

"You are deceiving me for some 
reason," Barton declared. " You are 
against me. What have you said? 
I soon shall know ! " 

"Wait, Barton! " cried the other, 
called to his senses by the threatened 
shock to the girl, — " one moment ! " 

But Barton hurried out of the 
room, Mr. Tibbetts clinging to his 
coat. 

To Edith her uncle's singular an- 
nouncement from the stair was less 
astonishing than it might have been 
had not his recent excitement pre- 
pared her for new vagaries, and had 
she herself been freer from an agita- 
tion which she sought unsuccessfully 
to conceal from herself. 

When she entered the sitting-room 
her step was tremulously decided. 
She saw in a quick glance that Had- 

50 



THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 

leigh was not there. Neither was he 
in the Hbrary, a circumstance which 
an observer might have associated with 
an immediate loss of some of the 
outward calm with which she had 
descended the stair. 

The truth is that her heart was 
beating high. She had set herself to 
do an exceedingly disagreeable thing, 
and she had undertaken to spare her- 
self no penitential detail of a task 
imposed by her sense of justice to 
Hadleigh and to herself. It was 
costing her the last drops of her cour- 
age to confess to him that she had 
promised too much, that to offer him 
more than her high respect had been 
to offer him more than she owned. 

Why had he not greeted her there 
where she had expected to see him ? 
A little matter may stagger one's 

51 



THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 

overwrought nerves. One is unwil- 
ling to search for a lover one is about 
to dismiss. 

She sat down at the library table. 
How should she meet him ? She had 
fancied his inquiring look, and had 
planned her humiliating story. It 
was turning out differently, somehow. 
She hated the thought of looking him 
in the eyes. 

At the sound of a step she felt her- 
self grow cold. 

" Don't speak ! " she commanded 
tremulously, her face averted. ** I — 
I have n't any courage, after all, and 
you must do me the last kindness of 
listening for a moment or I shan't be 
able to say a word. There is some- 
thing I must say. It is a hard thing 
to say — the hardest thing I ever tried 
to say. You will understand that." 

52 




" 'Don't speak ! ' she coiii- 
II landed trtiiiuloiislv- ' 



THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 

Barton was frozen where he stood, 
and old Tibbetts, a detaining hand 
on Barton's arm, his lips parted, ut- 
terly failed in the first dazed moment 
to grasp the significance of Edith's 
speech. 

"You always have known,'* the 
girl went on, *' that I held a high 
ideal of a woman's duty — that I be- 
lieved in the true love of the woman 
for the man as well as in the true 
love of the man for the woman. 
Without this, marriage could not be 
holy. There are so many ways of 
looking at a woman's duty, that I 
suppose God forgives her for some 
mistakes. When I promised to 
marry you I did not foresee every- 
thing that has happened — happened 
to myself. This will seem very cruel 
to you." 

S3 



THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 

Mr. Tibbetts put out his hand to- 
ward Edith, his eyes on Barton, who 
stood white and strung at the parted 
curtains. Perhaps the disaster fas- 
cinated him. At all events he did 
not speak. 

** Try not to think harshly of 
me," came Edith's voice. ** Try to 
remember all the i^ood vou can of 
me. But this is the truth, whatever 
may have seemed to be true to either 
of us. I do not love vou. I must 
not see you as my lover any more. 
I have done you a great wrong/' 

Barton drew back as if some one 
were stabbing him repeatedly. Tib- 
betts had a confused sense of his eointr, 
and of Edith still speaking. ** I was 
foolish to think that love ever could 
come to me aiiain. The onlv man I 
ever loved, the only man I ever could 

54 



THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 

love, lies buried at Manila.. . 
Forgive me, Marcus" — she had 
arisen — *' I have n't asked you to be 
seated, I have n't — uncle ! " 

Only Tibbetts stood there, wring- 
ing his hands. 

** Uncle ! and you let me " 

"My — my dear, he just went 
away." 

'' Away ! '' She sank again into 
the chair. 

" Yes, Edith. He has gone. I 

I am afraid, my dear, that you will 
have to tell him again ! " 



55 





HE trolley into the 
city ran scarcely a 
hundred yards from 
the house, hut Bar- 
ton struck blindly 
across the valley 
with little thought 
as to the direction in which his steps 
carried him. How he left the Lyn- 
wood house would at any later time 
have been a matter as trying to his 
recollection as an elusive hiatus in a 
dream. 

Fate IS credited with a whimsical 
habit in manao-ins: children and 

56 



THE GIRL &■ THE GUARDSMAN 

drunken men. Doubtless there is a 
special formula for lovers who blun- 
der, otherwise drama might perish 
and ordinary fiction go lame in an 
early chapter. 

However, the great fact just here 
is that Barton and luiith managed to 
be deceived in defiance of every rea- 
sonable probability that such a thing 
would not happen. It was a chance 
in a million, and even that millionth 
chance demanded Tibbetts. The 
thing could not have been done with- 
out him — and it could not have 
been done had he meant to do it. 

The blinding bitterness that seized 
upon the soldier bore with it a dis- 
torted image of Tibbetts, whom Bar- 
ton's grief and anger instinctively 
associated with the blow that so un- 
expectedly struck him down. 

57 



THE GIRL ^- THE CtUARDSMAN 

And yd, thought Burton, what 
diti'erence did it make what had 
been said to her ? She had judged 
and executed him. There was no 
saving gleam of false impulse in what 
she had said. She had spoken with 
emotion — she had thou2:ht him 
dead. But all the same she spoke 
with merciless decision. The words 
were colored bv the moment. She 
had lived with the thoughts they 
expressed. 

This was his home coming. This 
was the end oi the journey. This 
was the crown to his devotion. 

A man has his notions oi human 
nature, of right and wrong. He has 
his theories of friendship, of love, 
of hdelitv, his ideals that tlame 
steadily in the darkest nio-ht. Per- 
haps he has had the hope of proving 

5^^ 



THE GIRL 6- THE GUARDSMAN 

in his own life that cynicism is. a lie, 
that fliith is a living flower, fair, 
elate, imperishable. What a mock- 
ery was all this in the face oi such a 
grotevsque tragedy ! 

It was hard enough to think that 
in a few short months she should 
have been able to find a vsatistying 
love in another. It was crushing to 
think that, having so found her way, 
no surviving thought ot him should 
have better guided her greeting. The 
wound from an enemy is at worst 
an awkward thing. The blow ot a 
friend is the real hurt, the supreme 
calamity of life. 

Poor Barton felt that this wound 
had rended his soul. He had 
no blame for Hadleigh — no, no. 
He assured himself that Hadleigh 
was the one man he would have 

59 



THE GIRL &■ THE GUARDSMAN 

chosen to take his place by her side. 
And she, perhaps, had been influenced 
by thought oi himself in listening to 
his friend. It was not a fantastic 
idea — or niiirlit not have seemed 
such had the last hour been turned 
dit^erently. 

The world was empty — that was 
the short of it. Had he been a 
coward, Barton miglit have found 
consolation in some desperate resolve 
to out\\it the fate that had preserved 
him ahve. As it was, he could have 
cursed the fortune that denied him 
a torward place in a charging line. 
There are lucky men who at the 
riglu moment have the chance to 
lead a forlorn hope. 

\\ hy was his patli so smooth ? 
Why did the field lie soft and odor- 
ous before him ? ^^ hy did the sun 

60 



THE GIRL & THE GUARDSMAN 

mock him with its Septciiihcr shim- 
mer? Why did the trees — 

The trees ! Here was the tree be- 
neath which she sat when he had 
sketched her in the green vista of the 
valley. . . . He had given the sketch 
to her. That was lojig ago, in the 
other time. . . . What had she done 
with such souvenirs oi their be- 
trothal ? Was she so different from 
anything he had fancied that she 
could look upon that image of her- 
self drawn in his affectionate lines 
without a twinge of regret ior the 
cruelty oi her dismissal ? 

Such things, he thought, had 

turned honest men into something 

worse than cynics. No man could 

be the same again who had gone 

through a trial like this. The 

burn of such a moment must dis- 

6i 



THE GIRL & THE GUARDSMAN 

tigure him, must cripple his reason, 
must kill his faith. 
** Holv saints ! " 

The voice seemed to come out ot 
the earth, but when Barton looked 
up he discovered its owner in the 
person ot a hatless vouth who evi- 
dently had been running hard, tor 
his t'ace was flushed and he was pant- 
ino; heavily. At the moment when 
Barton cauirht sii^ht of him the lad 
was staring at him with something 
like terror in his look. 

** Becker," said Barton quietly ; 
** you are Becker, aren't vou." 

** V-ves," stammered the vouth, 
still movino;. ** I thouLrht you 
>vere — were " — 

** Barton r I am." 

Becker shifted uneasily as it to 
break into a run aiiain, o-lanciui^ over 

0.: 



THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 

his shoulder, then once more at- the 
soldier. '* I — thought you were — 
were dead/' 

** I was/* vsaid Barton quietly. 
** Hut I came back." 

** (jod ! " Becker tore away 
through a fringe of bushes, never 
turning his head. 

What did this mean ? Barton 
looked after him for a moment, then 
walked on. Certainly the world 
was strangely muddled. The val- 
ley seemed much the same. Here 
was the river, rippling in the sun- 
light, the same old lazy river. There 
were the works and the row of white 
houses beyond. Further away was 
the old white steeple and the water 
tower. But the people — they were 
as changed as if he had been away 
for the length of a Rip Van Winkle 

63 



THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 

sleep, or as if some malign spirit had 
cast a blight upon them. Witness 
young Becker, if not stark crazy, 
acting like a madman or a hunted 
spirit. 

What was this on the ground ! 
Barton wondered if his mind were 
going, or if he actually saw lying 
among the first-fallen leaves the fig- 
ure of a man. 

He did not hurry to the spot. 
Probably the thing was another trick 
of his tortured brain. . . . 

It was a man, a young man with 
a red stain on his coat, an uncon- 
scious man bleeding from some 
wound nelar his shoulder. He 
knew the man. . . . Yes, it was 
Marcus Hadleigh — Hadleigh, dying 
perhaps. 

Barton said the name aloud, not as 
64 




" Yc's, it was Marcus 
HacUeiahr 



THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 

if to call him, but as one might label 
another phase of a bad dream. 

At this the young man beside 
whom Barton was kneeling opened 
his eyes. For a moment the eyes 
seemed to see nothing. Then they 
steadied themselves in a searching 
look at Barton's face, and the brows 
gathered perplexedly. 

" My God ! " cried Hadleigh, 
clearing his throat. " You 're not 
Barton ? " 

" Yes I am, Hadleigh. Lie still for 
a moment till I find what the trouble 
is.'* Barton was awake again. 

" I 'm shot," said Hadleigh, with 
his eyes hard fixed on Barton. " He 
hit me right — right here — in the 
arm. It 's nothing at all, but I was 
chasing him, and — and a weakness 



came over me." 



65 



THE GIRL S- THE GUARDSMAN 

"Shut Up, Hadleigh, until I get 
a compress here . . , there, that 's 
better/' 

Hadleigh began to tremble vio- 
lently. " No . . . you can't be Bar- 
ton. I 'm as crazy as a . . . No, 
Barton 's dead, poor fellow. And 
yet — God ! the hat, and the 
coat!" — 

" Hadleigh, will you shut up ? If 
you have n't bled too much perhaps 
you can get your arm up — here — 
like — that 's it, that 's it. We ought 
to know the trick. Mrs. Hender- 
ling's house is only a little way off. 
I 'd rather not leave you ; you must 
try to walk." 

" Of course I '11 walk," faltered 
Hadleigh, his eyes still fascinated by 
the face of Barton. " I 'm only a 
little weak, you understand," 

66 



THE GIRL &■ THE GUARDSMAN 

" Don't talk, I tell you. Put your 
steam into those legs of yours. That 's 
right. We shall only be a minute or 
two. Keep still and listen to me. 
I '11 talk. I was hard hit that day, 
Hadleigh, but it was n't what you 
thought. I pulled out, and after- 
ward escaped. There was a mix-up 
at the hospital, and I was a long time 
in the fever. Probably it was n't a 
hundred years. But I got through. 
It was that fellow Binton, poor devil, 
from Sandville, who was buried with 
the two others. It was like some- 
thing out of a book, an almighty 
exciting, impossible romance. Any- 
way, I 'm here. You see how this 
lunatic world goes. After all your 
trouble, Hadleigh, you had to come 
home to get shot — There ! eyes 
front ! We 're getting there ! " 

67 



THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 

They made him comfortable in 
the little room off Mrs. Henderling's 
porch — he refused to lie down. 
When the doctor came he said it was 
a close shave for the bone. Having 
adjusted a new compress and bound 
up the wound the doctor turned to 
Barton. " Well done. You 're an 
artist.** 

'* He *s a soldier,*' said Hadleigh. 

"He did a quick turn for me 
once," returned Barton, looking down 
at the wounded man. 

The doctor, who had run over 
on foot, said he would 'phone over 
to the Hadleigh place and have a 
carriage up right away. They had 
discouraged Hadleigh's attempt to 
tell how it happened, but he managed 
to explain that he was shot while 
driving, and that he saw his assailant. 

68 



THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 

** One or two rough ones at the 
works have had it in for me," he 
said, *' and a young fellow, a mere 
kid, who was discharged a week ago, 
is the one who did it. I expected 
to be attacked, but I did n*t expect a 
bullet. I was driving across to the 
Lynwood house.'* Hadleigh looked 
over at Barton. " The fellow fired 
from behind some bushes by the road. 
If you get sight of my horse, doctor, 
you might send the rig up.'* 

" But you must go straight home," 
warned the doctor. 

Hadleigh nodded„ 

'' Yes,'* he continued, when the 
doctor went away, " I left the horse 
and headed for him. I know the 
man.*' 

'' So do I," added Barton. " It 
was young Becker." 

69 



THE GIRL <&- THE GUARDSMAN 

" How the devil ** — 

** I met him running." 

** It is a funny world! " cried Had- 
leigh. " What an extraordinary thing 
that you should stumble over me ! '* 

" I almost eiid stumble over you/' 

** Do you know,'* pursued Had- 
leigh, twisting in the arm-chair, ** I 
can't believe it is you — back from 
the dead. I tell you, when I opened 
my eyes and saw you, it came over 
me queerly like a dream that I was 
dead and that I had joined you, Bar- 
ton. It did n't even seem astonish- 
ing. I took it quite for granted in 
a way. Then when my senses 
came" — 

"You are talking too much, 
Hadleigh, You are not badly hurt, 
but you bled a good deal and you 
must be quiet for a while. I shall 



THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 

have to leave you if you can't . keep 
mum/' 

" I *11 be good if you don't keep 
quiet, Barton, and will go on and tell 
me everything. What are you doing 
with your gun ? " 

Barton was leaning forward, his 
elbows on his knees, his hands en- 
gaged with the revolver he had car- 
ried home in virtue of that tribute to 
sentiment by which a man is per- 
mitted to buy his weapons from 
the government. He had carried the 
revolver within his blouse for the 
boyish pleasure of parading it a little 
in his home coming. 

" You are right,'* said Barton, 
studying the Remington, *' this is a 
funny world. For instance, here I 
was in the field. There you were 
driving past. Now, what was to 

71 



THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 

prevent me from having a go at you 
myself? Think how romantic it 
would be if I were under suspicion," 
and he threw open the revolver as if 
he were breaking its back. 

" Yes," admitted Hadleigh, mysti- 
fied by the soldier's strange laugh. 
" But I saw the fellow who did it. 
That spoils the romance. Just as he 
stood up I caught a fair sight of him. 
It was Teddy Becker. We must get 
the police after him. Not that I 
care for the row. But he 's a dan- 
gerous character. It 's a duty. Will 
you do something for me. Barton ? '* 

" What is it ? " 

" I want to send word over to the 
Lynwoods." 

" I '11 send it." 

Hadleigh gave him a furtive look. 

" Have you — been there ? '^ 

72 




" ' IVhat are von doing 
with jyoiir gun?' '' 



THE GIRL <5r THE GUARDSMAN 

" Yes," Barton answered shortly. 

Hadleigh studied his face. He 
could not read it. Barton went on 
as if to prevent Hadleigh from pur- 
suing this line of inquiry : " Shall 
you dictate it, Hadleigh ? '' 

" No, no ; write anything you like 
and sign it yourself — just to tell 
her that I have been hurt. Do 
you know," continued Hadleigh, *' I 
was just thinking how odd it would 
be if you hadnt been there and she 
should get such a note signed by 
you I 

" It would have been odd," ad- 
mitted Barton. 

He had looked about and half risen 
as if to go in search of a scrap of 
paper. He brought out a packet 
from his pocket and looked it over 
for a blank page. He found a sheet 

73 



THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 

blank on one side. He turned it 
over and read : " Ever your faithful 
sweetheart, Edith/' The words cut 
him, and his temples began throbbing 
again. " Ever your faithful sweet- 
heart.*' Here was concentrated, sub- 
limated irony. He would not have 
thought that he could be guilty of 
writing as he did on the back of this 
sheet the few lines in which he 
said the things he was asked to say. 

They were very curt lines, he had 
to admit, when he came to glance 
them over. But this was no time 
for fine writing. It was news of 
Hadleigh that was the essential thing. 
She would n't distress herself over the 
medium nor over the manner of the 
communication. He folded the sheet 
and placed it in an envelope which 
Mrs. Henderling ^ fetched for him 

74 



THE GIRL <&• THE GUARDSMAN 

when she saw him writing. .They 
sent it away by Mrs. Henderling's 
boy. 

'' Barton/' said Hadleigh, when 
he saw the other rise, " I want 
to see more of you right away. 
YouVe got lots of things to tell 
me . . . and I 've got some things 
to say to you. Just now I — I don't 
somehow " • — 

'' Well/' returned Barton in a dull 
way, with a fling of his shoulders as 
if to give to his words a lightness he 
could not get into his voice, " keep 
quiet to-day anyway. Here 's the 
carriage — it's your own rig." 

Barton helped him out to the gate, 
and then with a laugh lifted him to 
the seat. 

" You must be getting into condi- 
tion again. Barton," suggested Had- 

75 



THE GIRL <5r THE GUARDSMAN 

leigh, who appeared to hate a pause 
in the talk. 

" O yes," agreed Barton, taking 
the reins from the man, " I am in 
the pink of condition/' 

Hadleigh's mother and sister 
met them near the house. The 
doctor had added the news about 
Barton to his 'phone message, and 
the two women were in great ex- 
citement. 

'' It 's all right ! '' shouted Hadleigh. 
Nevertheless his voice broke. 

** You poor boy ! '' exclaimed the 
mother ; ** and Mr. Barton ! I can't 
believe it ! '* 

" Both things are true," said Bar- 
ton. " He 's hurt and I 'm here. 
I 'm going to turn him over to 
you now." 

When they had the wounded man 
76 



THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 

in the house Barton slipped .away 
unnoticed. He stalked down the 
railroad track, through the engine 
yard, ignoring the shriek of a warn- 
ing whistle, and strode on, head down, 
past the factories and the long enclos- 
ure of the rink until he found himself 
back in town. 



77 





OW, it will be un- 
derstood that none 
of these later hap- 
penings was known 
to Amanda Maud 
Wiggins sitting in 
her trysting place 
in mute commun- 
ion with an ugly 
and inexcusable Japanese dragon that 
ornamented a corner of Barton's 
studio. 

Amanda had spoken truly. Bar- 
ton's studio was quiet. It formed 
the north corner of the studio floor in 
the Board of Trade building, farthest 
from the noises of the street. If 

78 



THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 

Amanda always resented the. five 
flights of steps, and seldom neglected 
to make a suitable comment thereon, 
the good qualities of the uninhabited 
studio could not be denied. 

It was the only studio Amanda 
ever had seen, and she took Joe 
Gribsey's word for it that most of 
them were pretty much the same 
way. But the dust in the corners 
annoyed her unspeakably at times, 
and the inaccessible sabres, antlers, 
masks and lanterns smote her griev- 
ously. 

" What this place needs,'' she had 
said to Joe Gribsey on several occa- 
sions, " is a good cleaning up." 

" Not on your life," was Gribsey 's 
invariable response. 

" The fact is, Amanda," Joe had 
explained to her in mitigation of his 

79 



THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 

refusal, " that you can't clean up 
studios. That ain*t the way they do 
it. You just dust off the things they 
sit on and touch with their hands. 
Once I dusted oflF one of Mr. Barton's 
casts — that bushy-headed jay under 
the angel — and he wouldn't speak 
to me for three days." 

While Amanda sat staring at the 
Japanese dragon the door opened, 
and the girl, turning, saw a soldier 
standing under the Turkish blade 
that supported the curtain of the 
inner door. 

For a moment Barton and Amanda 
looked at each other without speaking. 
Then Amanda found her voice. 

*' The artist ain't in," she said. 

" That 's where you *re wrong," 

remarked Barton, peering about him. 

" That 's where you Ve wrong.'* 

80 



THE GIRL <Sr THE GUARDSMAN 

" Well, Upon my word ! " was all 
Amanda could say for a time. Pres- 
ently she added, firmly, under an 
accumulated resentment, ^* Who are 
you looking for ? " 

Barton glanced down at her, at 
her big black eyes, at her round 
chin and flushed cheeks, at her 
heavy unmanageable hair. " Joe 
Gribsey will do for a start-oflF," he 
answered. 

" He 's out just now," declared 
Amanda, dismissal in her tone. 

"' Is he ? Perhaps you know when 
he '11 be back. I could n't find him 
anywhere in the building." 

" He '11 be back pretty soon." 

" Perhaps you even know where 
he's gone." 

" I do. He 's gone for some gin- 
ger pop." 

6 8l 



THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 

«01 He has, has he? Well, 
now, I shouldn't want to spoil any- 
thing. Don't mind my smoking, do 
you ? '' Barton had crossed to the 
old desk, found one of his pipes, and 
put aside the newer one which he 
pulled out of his coat with the Ma- 
nila tobacco, 

" Upon my word ! " repeated 
Amanda, her eyes opening wider. 
" If you don't beat all ! You just 
make yourself to home, don't you ?" 

" I 'm going to try to,'' admitted 
Barton. 

" Did n't you hear me say that the 
artist ain't in ? What 's more, he 
never will be in." 

** Is that so?" Barton sat down 
opposite Amanda. " How odd. What 
is he doing with himself?" 

" He 's dead." . 

82 



THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 

*' Poor fellow." Barton pulled 
slowly at the pipe. " Too bad. By 
the way/' he pursued, " would you 
mind telling me who is occupy- 
ing this studio just now ? — the artist, 
the other artist, being dead, you 
know." 

" There ain't nobody occupying 
it," retorted Amanda. " I 'm just 
visitin' here myself, visitin' Joe — 
Mr. Gribsey." 

" I see," nodded Barton. '' Nice 
place, too." Presently he added : 
" To tell you the truth, you have 
made me feel a little awkward here. 
You have n't meant to, I know." He 
eyed her with a savage whimsicality 
that might have puzzled a profounder 
observer than Amanda. ** But I feel 
that I have intruded somewhat. I 
fancy that I ought to apologize to 
you." ^3 



THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 

Amanda was framing some re- 
sponse when Joe Gribsey's shuffle 
sounded at the door, and an instant 
later the janitor appeared, two ginger- 
pop bottles in one hand, a yellow 
package in the other. 

A soldier sitting in converse with 
Amanda in their trysting place, a 
soldier smoking a pipe, and — 

** O Lord ! '' gasped Gribsey, drop- 
ping the ginger pop and package. 
The sight of this man looking so 
much as the real Barton had when 
he went away filled Gribsey with a 
horror that was grotesquely expressed 
in a countenance of singular mobility. 

In a revulsion of feeling Barton 
found this affair of the studio grimly 
funny, as indeed it was. The abject 
horror in Gribsey's shaven visage 
almost made him laugh aloud, yet he 

H 



THE GIRL <&- THE GUARDSMAN 

hastened to repair the damage he was 
inflicting upon Gribsey's nervous 
system. 

" It 's all right, Joe/' he said, 
" I 'm the real thing." 

'* O Lord I '' repeated Gribsey. 

" Joe Gribsey I '' cried Amanda, 
"why don't you behave yourself? 
Have you gone looney ? '* 

" Barton ! '* stammered Gribsey. 
"Don't yer see? — it's Barton that 
was killed ! Lord ! I never knew 
they looked so plain ! " 

" Have some sense, Joe," ordered 
Amanda, " he ain't no ghost." 

"Of course not," declared Bar- 
ton encouragingly, with a hand 
outstretched; "not a bit of it. 
Don't you know a live man when 
you see him, Joe ? I 'm just Bar- 
ton, alive again, not killed, you 

8S 



THE GIRL &■ THE GUARDSMAN 

know, and come back to bother 
you again." 

** Mr. Barton ! — is it — really — 
you ! Well, I '11 be " — 

"It's really me, Joe, and you've 
spilled the ginger pop, and we are 
gorgeously thirsty. Go right out and 
get some more. Get several things, 
Joe; you know what I like. I can't 
eat anything just now, I 'm afraid, 
but'' — 

Joe could not be induced to go 
until he had shaken Barton's hand 
many times, and all but hugged him 
in the excess of his joy and astonish- 
ment. When at last he was shuffling 
excitedly down the stairs again they 
could hear him muttering, "Well, 
I '11 be everlastin'ly jiggered ! " 

As for Amanda, she had fastened a 

new look upon Barton. "And so," 

86 







«3 ^ 



THE GIRL <&• THE GUARDSMAN 

she said, "you are the artist- who 
went to the war?'' 

"Yes," replied Barton, "and, worse 
luck, I am the artist who came home 
again." 

Amanda took the liberty of draw- 
ing her chair a little closer. " I know 
somethin' about you," she said. 

"Do you?" asked Barton. 

Amanda nodded. "I 'm glad to 
see you back again, and I know 
some one that '11 be gladder than I 
am — gladder than any one else, I 
suppose.'* 

Barton expressed his interevSt. 

" She \s the young lady in our 
house. She 's Miss Lynwood." 

"Yes, yes," said Barton casually, 
"your voice did sound familiar." 

" Why, I never vsaw you before,^' 
declared Amanda. 

87 



THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 

*'No/' admitted Barton, recalling 
his cramped situation behind the 
screen, " I don't believe you did. 
Eh — how long have you been at the 
Lynvvood house ? " 

** Since January. You went away 
long before that did n't you ? " 

"Long before that," repeated Bar- 
ton slowly. " And when you go 
away and stay a long time — a num- 
ber of months," he added savagely, 
until Amanda stared, "you can't tell 
how things will be when you get 
back, can you?" 

" Maybe," said Amanda, expanding 
in an emotion of confidential ex- 
change. " Now when I don't see 
Joe Gribsey for quite a while I get 
so 's I can't wait to see him. Then 
when I do see him he makes me 

awful tired." 

88 



THE GIRL (5r THE GUARDSMAN 

" That is too bad/' returned Barton. 

Amanda watched him interestedly 
as he paced the studio. She saw his 
face change as he walked. When he 
finally turned sharply and asked, 
** Will you do me a favor ? '' she 
was almost startled out of her pla- 
cidity by the look in his eyes. 

" I 'd just like to/' she answered, 
and quite truly. 

" There is something/' he vSaid, 
*' that I should like to have you 
carry back to Miss Lynwood. You 
would n't lose it, would you ? " 

" No, indeed, sir ! " 

He turned to his desk and began 

to write. Presently Amanda saw him 

take off something from about his 

neck, and though he pretended to 

keep on writing she was sure that he 

stared at the thing, whatever it was, 

89 



THE GIRL (&- THE GUARDSMAN 

long and fixedly. She wondered 
what object could hold his earnest 
attention so long. 

Presently he got up. " Please take 
this back with you," he said, giving 
her an envelope in which there was 
something hard, like a locket maybe, 
and a silver piece lay in her hand 
underneath. 

" Any message with it ? " asked 
Amanda. 

** The message is there," replied 
Barton. 

Amanda held the envelope in both 
of her hands for a moment, then 
passed it debatingly from one to the 
other, and ended by putting it in her 
hat which lay near the pillows on the 
Venetian chest. She thought that 
Barton was watching to make certain 

of the envelope's safe bestowal ; but 

90 



THE GIRL <&- THE GUARDSMAN 

his fixed glance saw nothing, -and he 
did not stir from where he stood in 
the middle of the floor until Gribsey 
came gasping back with several bot- 
tles, some fruit, and a package of 
cakes. 

" Say ! '' burst out Joe, " nobody '11 
believe it ! I just told Dunkley, and 
he said I was gettin' worse ! Pete 
Somers says some green goods man is 
workin' us to swipe the studio stuff. 
What a racket ! Gee — willikins ! 
what '11 Miss Mitser and old Morgan 
say ! And Jennings " — 

" Are you goin' to hold them bot- 
tles all day ? " asked Amanda. 

" Give me time, Amanda, give me 
time. I tell you, I 'm pretty much 
disturbed myself ! Just to think ! — 
Mr. Barton, this is the most wonder- 
ful thing that ever happened ! Here 

91 



THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 

you were dead iis a herrin' to the whole 
of us — dead and buried, dead and 
writ up in the papers — and a mighty 
mean yeller dog picture they had of 
you, too — and then, here you walks 
in as alive as a new policeman." 

** If I don't get a drink in another 
minute," complained Barton, ** you '11 
have to bury me again." 

But Joe only laughed excitedly 

as he pulled out the little table and 

disposed the fare, Amanda helping. 

" This is just rich ! " he went on. 

** My sister '11 say I been drinkin'. 

I '11 have a tremenjous grind on 

some folks. O, I '11 work something 

good on Stovey all right ! * Bet 

you,' I '11 say, * that Mr. Barton 

wasn't killed at all.' * Go on!' 

he '11 say ; * was n't he buried ? ' 

* Maybe you won't bet,' I '11 say. 

92 



THE GIRL <5r THE GUARDSMAN 

* Go on ! ' he 'II say ; * somebody 's 
havin' fun with you.' * All right,' 
I '11 say, ' you don't have to take me 
up. There are others.' * See here,' 
Stovey '11 say, *do you mean it ? Do 
you want to throw away some 
dough?' * I 'm your man,' I'll say. 
And then" — 

" Joe," interrupted Amanda, ''have 
some sense." 

"Take this bottle, Mr. Barton," 
Joe said, pushing the bulk of the 
supplies toward the soldier. " I '11 
give you and Amanda the glasses. 
I '11 take the cup. You see, me and 
Amanda " — 

" That was all right, Joe," Barton 
interposed. " You were quite wel- 
come." 

" That 's what I told Amanda," 
pursued Joe. " I said you 'd never 

93 



THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 

care — I mean even if you was 
alive/' 

" And being dead '' — 

" Ho, ho ! — Yes ! You bein' dead 
— what did you care! " Joe giggled 
delightedly. " And us never sup- 
posin' for a moment " — 

" I thought it was very foolish," 
commented Amanda. 

Barton turned questioningly. 

** I mean coming up here," ex- 
plained the girl. " But, you see, Joe 
could n't get out only about one 
night in the month " — 

** And that was n't enough, I should 
think," was Barton's reassurance. 

** Well, he did n't think so," said 
Amanda. 

** Nor you either, Amanda," ex- 
postulated the janitor. ** You said 
yourself" — 

94 



THE GIRL 6r THE GUARDSMAN 

" Now, Joe, you know I' never 
said a word about coming up 
here." 

" O no ! not about coming up 
here. Of course not. Have some 
of the grapes, Mr. Barton. You 
did n't say nothin' about comin' up 
here. That was my brilHant idea. 
Ha, ha ! I worked that one myself. 
But if you was to come and see 
me — - 

" That was very good of her, 
Joe,'' suggested Barton. 

" That 's true, Mr. Barton, and I 
always tell her " — 

" But I said to you, Joe, more 
than once," declared Amanda, defen- 
sively, " that it was n't exactly right 
to be comin' here to a place that 
was n't mine, nor yours either, even 
if the artist was dead." 

95 



THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 

** I forgive you/' said Barton. " I 
can't see what you will do now. 
I '11 be in the way.'' 

Amanda laughed and Joe twisted 
his restless face. 

** Never mind ! " cried Joe explo- 
sively, " love will find a way ! " 

" The idea ! " ejaculated Amanda 
sternly. 

" Perhaps I '11 be leaving again," 
Barton remarked slowly. 

Joe's hands dropped. " Mr. Bar- 
ton ! " 

" I should think," said Amanda, 
her eyes wide, " that you would 
want to stay — where you are, for a 
little while." 

" You don't mean to go back to 

them battles ? " asked Joe, with a 

perplexed stare at Barton. 

" No, not that. I might go to 

96 



THE GIRL <&- THE GUARDSMAN 

New York, for instance." Then 
Barton smiled, it may be at a grim 
thought of his confidence and his 
audience. " But don't worry over 
that yet," he added, catching up his 
pipe. " Did I understand," he asked, 
turning to Amanda, " that you don't 
mind my smoking?" 

** She won't let me," remarked 
Joe. 

" Joe Gribsey ! I never stopped 
you." 

Barton watched them through the 
smoke. " You see, Joe," he said, 
" she feels more responsible for 
you." 

" I tell you, Mr. Barton," and Joe 

put aside his glass, " I often thought 

of you ridin' up in the front and 

slashin' right into them, and I wished 

I was there with you " — 
7 97 



THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 

" The idea ! '' exclaimed Amanda, 
with a derisive inflection. 

" I did wish I was there,'* insisted 
Gribsey ; ** right beside you, and 
lettin' them have it. I often 
thought" — 

" For heaven's sake, Joe," pro- 
tested Amanda, catching Gribsey 
by the sleeve, " don't make a fool of 
yourself! " 

Joe turned resentfully. "Amanda, 
you ain't got no patriotism in you. 
I 'd have gone to the war if it had n't 
been for you. You would n't let 
me go." 

<*No, I wouldn't. What good 
would you have been.? You'd have 
got lost." 

** Joe," suggested Barton, "you had 
better stay home with her." 

Joe twisted his face again. " I 

98 




§D 






^ 



<*, 



THE GIRL (Sr THE GUARDSMAN 

guess you're right, Mr. Barton. ' I 'd 
be mighty lonesome, I suppose." 

"Yes," added Amanda, "and 
you 'd be full of holes. You 're so 
slow you 'd never dodge anythin'." 

At this they all laughed. 

" Dodging is a very important 
part of it," said Barton. 

But Joe looked incredulous. 
" When Mr. Hadleigh was in here 
— about a month ago, I think, the 
last time, — he told me all about 
how you was shot, — killed, he 
said, — and I judge there wasn't 
no dodgin' about you, Mr. Barton. 
They all yelled to you, Mr. Hadleigh 
says, and you would n't stop, and 
that was how it happened. This is 
just what he said : * That feller, Joe,' 
he says, ^ was n't afraid of nothin' 
at all.'" 

LafC. '' 



THE GIRL S- THE GUARDSMAN 

" Nonsense," muttered Barton. 
" Why, Hadleigh was right along 
with me — he caught me when I 
tumbled off the horse.'* 

Then Barton arose suddenly in a 
way that made the two others under- 
stand that they must go, which they 
presently did, Joe carrying away the 
empty bottles. 

They had scarcely gone when 
there was a tap at the door, and an 
old man came in. It was Mor- 
gan, the painter. He strode over 
to Barton with both hands out- 
stretched. 

" It is true, then ! '' he cried husk- 
ily, catching Barton by the shoulder. 
" I did n't believe it. Welcome, my 
boy ! " 

" Glad to see you again, Mr. 
Morgan,'* returnjed the younger man. 



lOO 



THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 

" I have played truant for a ' long 
time." 

" You have, lad, and wt all 
thought you had gone for good. 
I thank God it was a mistake." 
There were tears on old Morgan's 
face. " It is the hell of war that 
it takes away our young men, spills 
our best blood, and leaves useless old 
chaps like me behind. Yes," he 
answered to the younger man's pro- 
testing look, " there is something 
infernally wrong about it. I remem- 
ber. Barton, — no, I won't sit down 
just now, — the day you stood in 
my door, wearing your soldier's togs, 
to say good-bye. After you had 
gone I dropped my brushes and sat 
there brooding, my heart sick, that 
you should be given up and that I, a 
puttering old fossil " — 

lOI 



THE GIRL <&- THE GUARDSMAN 

" Mr. Morgan/' interposed Bar- 
ton, "you wrong yourself, and I *m 
afraid you wrong me by exaggerat- 
ing the little service I was able to 
offer. Do you suppose any of us 
forget what you did in '62?'' 

Morgan turned away and came 

slowly back. " You make me think 

of myself. Barton. But it was very 

different with me. I must tell you 

about it some other time. You will 

have your own affairs to-day. It is 

all very different." He paused at 

the door and turned about. " Yes, I 

shall tell you all about it some day, if 

you can be bothered with the laments 

of a lonesome old man. It was very 

different with me. I did n't want to 

come home. You see. Barton, I had 

a great disappointment before I went 

away." 

102 



THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 

It was impossible that he should 
understand Barton's look. 

" I had been crushed. I did n't go 
for love of my country. I went in 
hope of hurting some one who had 
hurt me. But I didn't succeed. 
She never cared." 
Barton winced. 

"Forgive me, my boy, for this 
impulsive whimper. But this thing 
has brought everything back upon 
me. I thought I was hard as iron, 
and the sight of you has softened me 
shamefully. I want your story as 
soon as you have time to tell it. 
Good-bye, for to-day. I praise the 
Almighty that you are safely back. 
You have everything to live for." 

Barton grasped the old painter's 
hand in silence. 



103 




art fl\ 



EVtJ 



HIS was one of 

the ironies of life. 

Everything to live 

for! 

For a long time 

after Morgan had 

gone Barton sat 

there stupidly, alone 

again with himself, alone in his old 

haunt, alone with all that reminded 

him of his earlier dreams — more 

alone than he had felt himself to 

be in the hospital cot where he 

had battled out the long fight with 

fever. 

104 



THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 

He caught up a portfolio arid lifted 
his sketches and studies one by one 
without seeing any. It was no use. 
His mind would not work. His head 
had not been right since the fever. 
Something had broken. 

He threw aside the portfolio, lighted 
his pipe again and tried to pull him- 
self together. He must get at his 
letters and papers. There were 
people he must see. He must take 
his place in the world again. All 
this seemed like a mountain of weight 
upon him. He had no heart for any 
of it. Nothing seemed to be of any 
use. 

Providence had mixed things up in 
an astonishing way. The beginning 
of everything that had gone wrong 
was the day of the skirmish. It 
was a swift game they were play- 



105 



THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 

ing with the enemy, a nimble and 
an ingenious enemy. It was all very 
well to call an enemy a savage, but a 
Mauser rifle is a wonderfully imper- 
sonal agency of communication, tak- 
ing orders only from its master. 
That whine of the bullets — a funny 
thing ! And when you are hit, that 
is a droll thing, too, a novel sensation, 
quite unlike anything else that ever 
happens to you. 

Just before that Hadleigh had given 
him a quick look. Whether it ex- 
pressed a suspicion that he had been 
hit, or some intuitive sense of an im- 
pending stroke, it said plainly enough 
(as it seemed afterward) '* Good-bye! " 
When he did reel from the horse less 
than a minute later Hadleigh's arm 
was there. Hadleigh had given a 

little growl when he caught him, and 

106 



THE GIRL <Sr THE GUARDSMAN 

had muttered some question that he 
did not quite catch. When he opened 
his eyes for a moment Hadleigh's face 
was bending over him, and he had 
the feeling that Farren, the surgeon, 
was near by tearing at the clothes of 
another man who had been hit. 
Then there were two faces, and one 
of them, which was Farren's, shook 
sadly, until, far gone as he was, he 
felt that he might as well go ahead 
and die. 

The next faces were dusky, and he 
knew that he was a prisoner. He 
owed a big debt to that Tagalog lieu- 
tenant with the little hands and a 
shadow of a moustache who had done 
so much to make him comfortable. 
The month of waiting for the wound 
to heal was not so hard to bear as the 

two months of waiting for the chance 

107 



THE GIRL & THE GUARDSMAN 

to escape. That week's agony before 
he got to the American camp was 
what brought on the fever. Indeed, 
when he stairirered in on that wet 

CO 

Sunday morning he was too far gone 
to understand what they said about 
the troop. 

How they Hgured it out that he 
was Hinton of Sandville made little 
difference, after all. An earlier fugi- 
tive had carried word that Barton 
died earlv in his captivity ; so that, to 
be sure, he had to be Binton or some 
one else. 

The fever was real. At the end 
of five weeks he was well enough to 
say tliat he was n't Binton. Then 
the nurse patted his head and told 
him to be quiet. After a while he 
asked them to send word in the de- 
spatches that he was alive — just as 

108 




''iiadlei^Ws face was h end- 
in ff over him.'"' 



THE GIRL & THE GUARDSMAN 

Binton was dead. He took it for 
granted that they complied with his 
recjuest, l)ut discovered afterward, 
when lie got to Manila, that they 
had not. A singular rage then came 
over him. He let them call him 
Binton in the discharge, and after 
writing a cahle message he tore the 
thing up. "I will carry my own 
message,'* he said. 

Nevertheless, when he got to San 
Francisco he went straight to the 
telegraph office. At that moment he 
learned that he might catch an im- 
mediate train, and he deferred his 
message for the time. The train 
worried and sickened him, and once 
or twice when his ohligation to an- 
nounce his coming appeared to him 
he found himself saying, feverishly, 

** I will carry my own message." It 

109 



THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 

was a poor joke. He saw this in 
retrospect. Although he did not 
know how sad a joke it had been, he 
let it measure for him the degree of 
his weakness. 

The dusk was deepening and the 
studio shadows were falling with 
strange images. This symbolized for 
him the flavor of life, for the things 
he had taken for granted, had called 
the real things, the things that were 
worth while, were fading away, 
and only the fantasies, the mocking 
ghosts of things, seemed to be pres- 
ent and real. 

He lighted the candle in the old 
tall candlestick, staring for a while 
into the flame, listening to the dis- 
tant noises of the street, and wonder- 
ing what he should do when the 
candle had burned out, — what 

I lO 




" The irain worried and 
sickened bimJ" 



THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 

he should do with that hopeless 
night. 

It was now that he did that which 
he had not the courage to do in the 
light of day — he lifted the curtain 
from before the unfinished portrait 
he had begun soon after they were 
engaged. He had thought it was 
going to be one of the best things he 
had done. 

As long ago as when he had his 
year at Munich, they used to say of 
Barton's pictures of women, that all 
of them had the madonna look, just 
as they said of Melkin's women that 
they were all grisettes. At one time 
Barton used to think that he resented 
this comment as if it implied a limi- 
tation. All of his themes were not 
madonnas. He should be able to 

paint a bacchante if he wanted to. 

1 1 1 



THK (M R L &• THE GUARDSMAN 

One d;iy when he had Impulsively 
expressed something of this to Pell- 
manii, the master, PeUmann after a 
moment's silence said: ** My triend, 
every man, when he paints a woman, 
paints the female version of himself.'* 
At which Barton laughed, for Pell- 
mann was not a Hatterer. 

This picture o( Kdith exhibited no 
flight oi fancy. It certainlv was a 
good likeness. She hail a pair ot the 
most perfect eyes he had ever seen. 
There was a girl who sat in the 
sketch class at the Art Student's 
League who had eves something 
like them, but that girl's eyes had too 
much history in them. This was the 
marvellous thing about lulith*s eyes, 
that, without the signs of history, 
they had such definite evidences of 
perception and feeling. Beyond the 

1 I 2 



THK (; I K L & JIIK GUARDSMAN 

form and color and movement was 
the /oo^, the thing that made them 
American eyes, that paradox of wist- 
fid intelligence, of unawed inquiry, 
that piques and puzzles the foreign 
ohserver, and challenges the native to 
be his best. 

Her nose was not quite so good. 
. . . No, it was not so perfect, 
though even its faults, he said to him^ 
self, were never commonplace. Her 
mouth belonged in the partnership 
with her eyes. Hie lips had that 
regularity, without coldness, that in 
some ways was harder to express on 
canvas than the elusive mystery, the 
feminine secret of her eyes. 

What a mockery such a shadow of 
her now was! The painted lips were 
not sullied by the things she had said; 
but for this very reason the whole 

8 I 13 



THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 

face had become to him like that of 
one who was dead. The other Edith 
had gone out of his life. By a trick 
of fate this face was no longer his. 
Those lips. . . . 

He got up again, and drew into 
the rays of the candle some of the 
canvases that had submissively faced 
the wall, like naughty children. Here 
was Dolly Cameron, who had worn 
a gypsy rig at the lawn party ; who 
had read his hand and declared that 
he was going to live happily ever after. 
Clever girl, Dolly ; but not a good 
prophetess certainly. That was a 
very bad guess of Dolly's. Live hap- 
pily ever after ! 

Ah ! here was old Nottway, the 

model, who used to complain so much 

of his rheumatism and the stairs — 

not peevishly, nor indirectly, but as 

114 




■,-i 




o 












►ij; 


. 


.^ 


A, 






o 


S 


•>-' 


'^. 






Q 


o 



THE GIRL 6r THE GUARDSMAN 

one man to another. Poor oldNott- 
way! with his white hair and austere 
countenance, recalHng the days when 
he had been a delegate to the Con- 
stitutional Convention, when he occu- 
pied an honored seat on the bench, 
when they even wanted to force upon 
him the nomination for lieutenant 
governor, — Nottway, with his courtly 
bow in the presence of a woman and 
his magnificent appetite for cheese 
and beer, Nottway was fit for any 
imposing part. He had been a bishop 
for Hilton, a monk for Snedeker, a 
Lear for De Faronne, a ruined banker 
for Chavin, an alchemist for Malloy. 
Yea, one man in his time plays 
many parts. 

This leonine face of a woman was 
painted from Gribsey's mother, a 
talkative dame with a convulsive 

115 



THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 

chuckle, who furnished to Barton 
much real entertainment by her rem- 
iniscences of Joe's erratic boyhood. 
"When we had the farm/' said Mrs. 
Gribsey, " before Samuel died, Joe 
used to deliver milk and vegetables in 
Hawsondale. Somehow he always 
had three or four dogs with him, and 
you could tell by the howl that went 
up in the village that Joe was on one 
of his deliverin' trips. Them dog 
fights got to be such a nuisance that 
we had to forbid Joe to own a dog, 
and we only allowed one dog at the 
farm, and made Joe chain this up 
before he started. But that did n't 
do any good. Dogs waited for him 
down by the schoolhouse. They 
broke their chains in the village to 
join his pack. We had lots of trouble 

over it." 

ii6 



THE GIRL (Sr THE GUARDSMAN 

This little pale blue fairy was 
Gladys. No easy thing to paint 
Gladys. It was like painting a but- 
terfly on the wing. Young as the 
child was, she knew how to tease him. 
It was a fancy of his that he never 
should be able to keep her picture 
in the canvas, and that some day she 
would step out of it and come over 
to tease him with the flowers in her 
hand, like some tangible fairy in this 
world of shadows. 

Dreams ! all dreams ! Good-bye, 
Gladys ! Good-bye to all your fairy- 
land of sweet ideals ! Good-bye to 
the days when life is too young for 
the deeper disappointments ! Good- 
bye to the days that did not know 
fever and its legacies ! 

We take some things hard when 

they come to us for the first time, and 

117 



THE GIRL S- THE GUARDSMAN 

it may be, as Barton was thinking, 
that some things can come but once. 
Glory and grief have their grand 
crescendos. At this hour the air was 
full of the cries of salutation to the 
victorious admiral who also had come 
home across the sea. Yet the victo- 
rious admiral had not sailed home- 
ward with a higher expectancy than 
Barton had felt in his journey over 
the Pacific and across the continent. 
When he had looked out over the 
prairie, jaded as he was by the journey, 
the sky had seemed to be written 
wide with hope. Perhaps he had 
been made a little cynical by his 
physical sufferings; but no shadow 
of real doubt or fear had crossed his 
homeward path, and as he drew near 
to his destination the unnatural petu- 
lance, the brooding silence that ap- 

ii8 



THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 

peared in his conduct in those last 
hours at Manila, and in his resolution 
to carry the message himself, seemed 
to be wholly melting away. 

A thousand times during the jour- 
ney he had recalled the day of the 
parade, the first parade of the troop 
after their betrothal, before there was 
any thought of a war and foreign ser- 
vice, when she had waved her hand- 
kerchief to him, an unmistakable 
radiance shining in her face. 

And yet it is a man's imperative 
duty to shut out his troubles, to draw 
the veil of his resolution against the 
sight of his grief — to forget, if he 
can. 

Forget ! It was like trying to for- 
get his fever, to forget that it still 
clung to him, sapping his nerve, dull- 
ing his senses. 

119 



THE GIRL <Sr THE GUARDSMAN 

As if to blot out his cares he drew 
the cloth over the face of Edith, and 
turning away flung himself upon the 
couch. 

The couch was a bed of fire, and 
he arose again to pace the floor, to 
stop once more before the veiled 
frame. She was there, just the 
same. . . . 

Far into the morning he fell, ex- 
hausted, into the chair near the 
frame, dropped his heavy head upon 
his arm, and yielded at last to the 
pitying caress of sleep. 

Some dreams are never told. They 
are for the dreamer alone. 

When a man has had a fever, and 
the night air bears an insidious chill, 
there are things the man should 
not do. Yet the gray dawn, tracing 
anew with its pale finger the night- 

I20 




'*// was like iryiug to 
forget his fever:- 



THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 

dimmed images of reality, found Bar- 
ton still there, his head upon his arm, 
wrapped in the mystery of slumber. 

The city about him waked and 
stirred, but he slept on. There was 
a sound on the stair and a knock 
at his door, but sleep still held his 
senses. 

The noise did not arouse him, but 
who shall explain the potency of an- 
other life near our own, another heart 
beating high, other lips quivering in 
a strong emotion ? 

The door had been standing ajar, 
and a rustling figure crept in like the 
dawn itself. . . . 

When Barton staggered to his feet 
he found himself staring at Edith, or 
what might have been Edith, per- 
haps; Edith, her white garden hat 
fallen to her shoulders, her raglan 

121 



THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 

suggesting somehow a hurried, im- 
pulsive departure from the house. 

For a moment neither of them 
made a sound. That she should be 
other than some creature of his 
dreams was to Barton beyond belief. 
That she who had dismissed him yes- 
terday with such unspeakable preci- 
sion should now be standing there at 
the studio door in the early morning 
light was too much for his fevered 
head to grasp at once. 

" Edwin ! *' she cried, starting for- 
ward under the restraint of the un- 
readable stare in his eyes. *' Did 
you — did you write that cruel note 
about Marcus ? Did you send this 
locket back to me ? " 

"Yes," he said slowly, " I did.'* 

" It is no — no trick, then — they 
came from you?" 

122 



THE GIRL (&- THE GUARDSMAN 

She made as if to go closer to him, 
her hands working. One of the 
hands held the locket. 

"Yes/* he answered again, ** they 
did." 

^* I can*t believe " — she looked 
abjectly at him. "O Edwin! what 
did you mean ? If I had disappointed 
you'' — 

" Disappointed me ! My God ! '' 
Barton made a tortured gesture. 
" Disappointed me ! Hear her ! " 
He drew himself up, his fingers 
clutching a corner of the nearby desk. 
*' Did you come here to tell me I 
was a fool to be disappointed .? It is 
an extraordinary mark of considera- 
tion. A man is a great fool to be 
disappointed." 

"O Edwin! you are disappoint- 
ing me." 

123 



THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 

** Perhaps I am," he returned, with 
a bitter inflection. "Perhaps I won't 
do myself any credit as I am now. 
You see — some things that I have 
gone through with have unsteadied me 
a little, made it hard for me to take 
disappointment in a light, easy way. 
It is a pity. But it can't make any 
difference to you. You are foolish to 
concern yourself over so small a 
matter." 

" So small a matter ? " 

She looked at him in despair, draw- 
ing back until she stood again by the 
door. And this was Barton — Bar- 
ton, her lover, dwindling from his 
heroic lines because she, believing 
him dead, had listened to his friend. 
For this offence, these insults. 

'* So small a matter," repeated Bar- 
ton in a hard tone, his lip quivering. 

124 



\ ' 



Jy^ 



*li r 




' Ihil s/.h' bail passed 
chnvii the stair.'' 



THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 

And this was Edith Lynwood, the 
girl who had seemed to love him 
before all the world, yet who was 
not content to let him suffer undis- 
turbed from the steady, unmitigated 
blow she had inflicted the day before. 

" Pardon me ! '' he blurted, " I 
might have offered you a chair after 
this climb." 

She wished to speak again, but she 
was choking. 

As for Barton, the room swam 
about him and there was a loud noise 
in his ears. 

When she went out suddenly, with- 
out another word, he faltered as if 
to follow her, and stumbled like a 
wounded man. He got to his feet 
again and sprang to the door. 

But she had passed down the stair. 



125 






HEN the fluttering 
figure of her young 

r/m^,. w-^;^-^ A'W-'S'ti mistress came back 
>>^ \\> ,^^ through the garden, 

not pausing any- 
where, and passed 
to the second-floor 
room without a 
sound, Amanda Maud saw and won- 
dered. Plainly there was some mys- 
terious significance in this early 
morning absence, in this silent, al- 
most stealthy return. 

1 26 




THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 

Amanda worked with a slightly 
accelerated rapidity, singing softly her 
favorite unfinished song about the 
"wild moor/' with more than the 
usual effect of being detached from 
the key. The truth is that Amanda's 
variations from true tone had that 
invariableness in which the listener 
often finds a new and original har- 
mony, a peculiar and fascinating con- 
sistency, that gives to the major a fine 
minor flavor which even an exacting 
taste might hesitate to lose. 

A little later in the morning 

Amanda appeared in her habitual 

house-dress, of which the skirt was a 

shade too short to be conventional. 

Hadleigh once had remarked that 

Amanda looked like a light-opera 

housemaid. Wherever she acquired 

the inspiration, Amanda clung with 

127 



THE GIRL (5r THE GUARDSMAN 

a certain characteristic insistence to 
her short skirt and to the Uttle lace 
cap on her head, — an ornament 
which Edith scarcely regarded as 
consonant with the simplicity of 
their suburban menage^ but which ex- 
isted and prevailed (like certain other 
domestic minutiae) in deference, or 
at least in acquiescence, to Amanda's 
harmlessly authoritative habits. 

In justice to Amanda, it is to be 
observed that the garb of black, with 
the linen and the flip of lace in her 
hair, was entirely becoming, though 
this was not a point which really 
appeared to weigh with her. 

That Amanda was, indeed, in- 
fluenced by certain infrequent but 
memorable visits to the theatre, ap- 
peared in other of her preferences. 

She had ventured to suggest that Mr. 

128 



THE GIRL (S- THE GUARDSMAN 

Tibbetts should wear spats and a house 
coat with a green quilted lining. Her 
habit in the announcement of callers 
likewise was traceable to a sense of 
the pictorial and the dramatic. She 
resented the fact that there was not 
a footman who should be impertinent 
and whom she should strike playfully 
with her duster. 

But there was nobody but Joe 
Gribsey, who, singularly, filled no 
theatrical ideal, and whom she ha- 
bitually chided for being unkempt and 
impossible. Joe was her one reserva- 
tion, — a circumstance in which we 
may perceive a cheering feminine 
characteristic. 

There was, however, one particular 
in which Joe soothed, if he did not 
altogether meet, Amanda's romantic 
ideals. He wrote frequent and al- 

9 129 



The girl &- the guardsman 

most ardent letters. On this morn- 
ing Amanda found herself re-reading 
a letter from Joe that was at least 
three days old. 

" Dear Amanda [it said] : As usual, I 
have been thinking about you all day. I 
have quite a headache to-night, so I thought 
I would write you a few lines." 

" Now that 's what I call silly," 
murmured Amanda to herself, ** and 
he calls seven pages a few lines. 
Huh ! A few lines ! I wish he had 
took writin' lessons. He writes as 
bad as Mr. Tibbetts. I suppose it *s 
what they call a business hand." 

" I guess you know, Amanda [the let- 
ter continued], that I never think of no- 
body but you. I don't think I could if 1 
wanted to. You fill my inmost thoughts. 
Why that Miss Mitson, the woman artist 
at the back said yesterday that she was 

130 




' ' Ri'-rcadiiiif a Idler 
from Joey 



THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 

very fond of me think of that. You 
know the one I mean the one that paints 
cats. I got her a new cat yesterday. She 
says I would make a good husband for 
some nice girl.*' 

"The idea!'* cried Amanda, and 
the words might have passed for a 
salutation, since Joe himself inoppor- 
tunely appeared at the door, shorn of 
even his usually primitive effects of 
special decoration. Evidently he had 
left the Board of Trade Building in 
a hurry. 

** What *s that you 're readin', 
Amanda?** 

" None of your business, Joe Grib- 
sey. Tell me right off what on earth 
you 're doin' here ? I suppose you '11 
be discharged before you get back. 
Anybody 'd think you had n't seen 
nobody yesterday afternoon." 

131 



THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 

" That ain't answerin' my question, 
Amanda. What are you readin' ? " 
" I told you none of your business/* 
Joe rashly seized her about the 
waist, and sought to catch hold of the 
letter which she firmly withheld. 
"Joe Gribsey, let me go ! '* 
" Let me see the letter, Amanda." 
" I won't. I told you to let me 
go — or I '11 use force." 
" After you let me see " — 
Amanda had a strong arm, and there 
was a fine ** unhand me" quality in 
her method of casting off Joe, who 
contributed a perhaps unexpected 
grotesqueness to his repulse by sprawl- 
ing on the floor. 

" Well, you need n't 'a' been so 
rough, Amanda," complained the de- 
feated janitor. 

**Then please keep your place," 
132 





" ' You need tit \i' been so 
rough, Amanda / ' " 



THE GIRL &■ THE GUARDSMAN 

observed Amanda, showing him her 
white teeth. 

** I suppose you mean stay here/' 
growled Joe. " O, I can keep my 
place ! I can take a hint. A person 
don't have to explain things so much 
to me. When I ain't welcome I can 
generally tell it. When people don't 
want to see me when I come 
special " — 

** Joe Gribsey," she commanded, 
" don't draw a long face, now. Have 
some sense. What did you come 
for ? I should say you was out of 
your head comin' this time of day and 
riskin' your place." 

** It ain't my senses that's wrong," 
complained Joe, appropriating a com- 
paratively remote chair near the 
door. 

" I suppose you mean mine," re- 
^33 



THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 

torted Amanda, lifting her eyebrows 
at him. 

'* No, I don't; I mean the soldier's." 

" O ! Is he actin' queer too ? " 

** I should say so. It beats the 
cars the way things has been goin'.'' 

" Since I was there ? " 

<*Yep. This mornin'. First very 
early comes your Miss Lynwood." 

** Miss Lynwood ?" 

" Yep. That was funny, was n't 
it?" 

*' I knew it," remarked Amanda, 
which was not true ; but it was un- 
desirable, for reasons of discipline, that 
Joe should be flattered by the privi- 
lege of conveying too much infor- 
mation. 

"Did she tell you?" 

"No; of course not. But I knew 

it." 

134 



THE GIRL (&• THE GUARDSMAN 

''And pretty soon/' Joe went on, 
"she goes downstairs cryin'/' 

"Cryin'?'' 

" Cryin' soft to herself. It broke 
me all up. I was standin' then in by 
Morgan's door. She did n't see me. 
Then I found this locket on the 
steps. I know it 's hers," added Joe, 
as Amanda came over to take the 
trinket from his hand. 

" It 's the locket he gave me to 
take to her," said Amanda. 

"By and by I hear him walkin' 
up and down the place. Then when 
I come upstairs next time it was 
quiet and I knocked at the door. 
'Come in,' he says, and there he is 
sittin' in front of Miss Lynwood's 
picture lookin' Hke a ghost for fair 
this time. *I wish you'd get me 
some breakfast, Joe,' he says. But 



THE GIRL (&- THE GUARDSMAN 

he did n't eat it, and when that Eye- 
talian feller that sells casts came up 
he nearly threw him downstairs. By 
and by he was walkin' and walkin* 
again. What 's up, Amanda ? It 
seems an awful pity." 

"What 's up ? " returned Amanda, 
with a touch of commiseration for 
her companion's inferior perceptions. 
" You can see what 's up. They 've 
had words." 

" But can't they get over it like 
us ? " 

"Amanda!" came the metallic 
tones of Mr. Tibbetts, who stood 
somewhat flushed in the door- 
way. 

" Lord ! how you frightened me, 
Mr. Tibbetts!" 

"That," declared Mr. Tibbetts, 

" is because your mind is wander- 

136 



THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 

ing and your conscience unprepared. 
Where is my hat?" 

" Which hat, Mr. Tibbetts ? '' 

" The soft brown hat.'' 

*'With the black band?" 

"Yes." 

" I don't know, Mr. Tibbetts. I 
ain't seen it lately." 

The old man fidgeted angrily. 
" You 've been cleaning up around 
here again, I suppose ! " 

"Mr. Tibbetts, that ain't so. I 
ain't cleaned nothin'." 

Amanda looked resentfully after 
the retreating figure. " That 's the 
way he 's been actin'," she sighed to 
Joe. "What are they all crazy 
about?" 

" I tell you, Amanda," asserted Joe, 
with a consoling eflFect, " it's this love 
business. It makes everybody a little 

^37 



THE GIRL & THE GUARDSMAN 

crazy sooner or later. Mr. Tibbetts 
is got it like the rest. He 's been 
spoonin' around the widder Willis 
lately, and I suppose the people in the 
widder Willis's house is wonderin* 
what s/ie 's crazy about." 

Amanda grinned appreciatively, an 
oblique glance of reminiscence in her 
eyes. 

** Anyway, Amanda, I wish we 
could get this patched up somehow." 

** Us?" demanded the girl. 

"Yep, why not? Mr. Barton '11 
just worry me sick if things keep 
on this way. Look here, Amanda," 
and Joe hitched his chair nearer to 
the other into which Amanda had 
debatingly dropped. *' I '11 bet it 's 
just like it was with us that time — 
just a mistake." 

Amanda nodded conservatively. 
138 



THE GIRL 6r THE GUARDSMAN 

'' Very likely," she said. 

" Maybe it 's about that other fel- 
ler you tell me about." 

She looked at him squarely. "Mr. 
Hadleigh ? " 

- Yep." 

"I've been thinkin' that," said 
Amanda, judicially. This was not 
true either, but it was necessary to 
preserve her priority. " I dare say 
that*s where the trouble is." She 
looked down at the locket. " I wish 
I knew what to do with this." 

"Won't you give it to her.?" 

"I was just thinkin'," mused 
Amanda, a sense of grave respon- 
sibility in her tone. 

At this Mr. Tibbetts reappeared. 
"Young man," he said to Joe, 
"which way are you going when you 
go?" 

•39 



THE GIRL <5r THE GUARDSMAN 

" Down Wilton Avenue, sir/* 

" I wish/' continued Mr. Tibbetts, 
his manner indicating some new con- 
viction or resolve, — Amanda won- 
dered whether he had hopelessly 
abandoned the search for his hat, — 
" I wish you would deliver this letter 
for me at the office of the Fordwell 
Company. It must positively get 
there before twelve o'clock, under- 
stand, or else," and Mr. Tibbetts bent 
a severe admonitory glance upon Joe, 
** you might as well not take it at all. 
It is very important." 

" Yes, sir," replied Joe, meekly, as 
Mr. Tibbetts retreated. 

The janitor continued to hold his 
hand where it had poised itself to re- 
ceive the silver sop which accompa- 
nied the letter. He worked his palm 

reflectively, grimacing at the dime. 

140 



THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 

"The old man is very economical, 
ain't he, Amanda?" 

"Well, he'd never throw nothin' 
away," admitted the girl. "He'll 
expect you to run your legs off for 
that." 

" A dime 's a dime, anyway," 
expressed Joe*s philosophy of the 
moment. 

This being sufficiently uncombat- 
able, Amanda contented herself with 
saying, " Now, you 'd better skip, 
Joe." 

Joe turned resentfully. "That*s 
right, Amanda, chase me out. Well, 
I can take a hint. Good-bye ! " 

This was accompanied by one of 
Joe's inelegant essays at an embrace. 

" Joe Gribsey, let me go ! " 

" Good-bye, Amanda." 

" I tell you to let me go," warned 
141 



THE GIRL (S* THE GUARDSMAN 

the girl, her head splendidly reserved, 
and a moment later Joe*s voice issued 
from the back porch. " Well, you 
need n't 'a been so rough, Amanda/* 

But Amanda only smiled her im- 
perturbable smile, watching the young 
man as he disappeared through the 
gate. 

Then her smile turned to a thought- 
ful frown. Certainly it was a great 
pity that matters should be moving in 
this way. Amanda's admiration for 
Edith Lynwood had been definite and 
controlling from the first. It was 
impossible that any of Amanda's 
emotions should be accompanied by 
awe, yet her devotion to Miss Lyn- 
wood had in it much of real rever- 
ence. Her first impression that it 
was a lonesome household had not 

been due to any deficiency in its mis- 

142 



THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 

tress. Edith had always been cheer- 
ful and amiable. The face of that 
portrait of her mother in the little 
drawing-room might have prophesied 
that she would be — Amanda often 
paused before this face with feelings 
of large respect. Had Joe Gribsey 
been less jealous of a sacred security 
in everything at the studio, she might 
have seen there something like a new 
version of the same face. 

Perhaps because the portrait of 
Edith had been painted at the Lyn- 
wood house — all save one sitting 
at the studio — Joe never had had 
information of the relationship, and, 
indeed, never until now had seen the 
portrait uncovered. Amanda's vague 
information about a lover of Miss 
Edith's who had not returned from 
the cruel excursions of war, had 

143 



THE GIRL 6r THE GUARDSMAN 

reached her through the lame old 
man who came every day to work in 
the garden. Ernst was rich in social 
and domestic news, and he had made 
one or two comments on Hadleigh 
with an allusion to "dead men's 
shoes '' which Amanda regarded as 
revolting, and said so. 

When, after Hadleigh began com- 
ing regularly, Amanda had occasion- 
ally noticed a strange quiet in Edith, 
she had taken the liberty of conclud- 
ing that that first affair must have 
been very serious indeed. Yet this 
quiet was not to be compared with 
the mood that had appeared within 
the past twenty-four hours — since 
the soldier came home. 

If anything was wrong the sol- 
dier was to blame. This was plain 
enough to Amanda. It came to her 

H4 



THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 

Strongly this morning — came a -little 
fiercely when she saw the pitifully 
white look in Edith's face at the li- 
brary window where her mistress was 
mechanically fixing the flowers. 

" Miss Edith/' said Amanda, with 
a defiant tenderness, " you ought to 
do something for them." 

"For what, Amanda?" 

*' Them mopes." 

" Mopes ? " 

" O, I can see you got 'em. Miss 
Edith. I 've had 'em myself," she 
added, as if the experience had given 
her the right to speak with authority. 

"What did you do for them, 
Amanda ? " 

" Why — I always went to see 
him — but of course you could n't do 
that," Amanda continued, conscious 
of a deceit. 

lo 145 



THE GIRL <Sr THE GUARDSMAN 

A softness came momentarily into 
the fixed lines of Edith's lips. 

" And suppose that you went to 
see him, Amanda, and that it did n't 
cure them?" 

Amanda frowned. "Then I 'd 
make him come and see me, and I 'd 
keep it up. There ain't nothing 
else to do. Miss Edith. ^^ Men is 
strange animals, anyway/ Joe Grib- 
sey 's just been here." 

'' Has he, Amanda ? " Edith had 
turned away from the window, and 
paused again. As if to conceal the 
origin of this emotion of interest, she 
added, '' Why did n't you call me } 
Then I might have believed that 
there is such a person." 

" Well, he was here," Amanda 
proceeded, " and he says the soldier 's 

actin' very queer, walkin* up and 

146 



THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 

down, starin' at your picture, throwin' 
Eyetalians downstairs, and not eatin* 
a bite of food/' 

"You will have to prescribe for 
him too, Amanda/' 

** O, I daresay he needs a dressin' 

down,'* returned Amanda. " When 

a man gets the mopes you have to be 

rough with him. Gentleness don't 
>> 

Whether she felt that it was time 
to withdraw, or feared to trust the 
rising tide of her resentment against 
the soldier, Amanda went away, leav- 
ing Edith standing by the window, 
standing in that restless stillness which 
dulls the edge of courage and wears 
the patience of the heart. 

Perhaps Edith's dominant feeling 
was one of bitter disappointment. 

Without the master key to the situ- 

14.7 



THE GIRL 6r THE GUARDSMAN 

ation — without knowledge of the 
grotesque chance by which the situ- 
ation had been created — Barton's 
conduct could not seem otherwise 
than inexpHcable. He appeared to 
be yielding to impulses that might 
well have been adjudged too small 
to master him. The tragic story of 
his death had been a blinding blow. 
In that hour how trite and inade- 
quate had been every conventionality 
of consolation ! How she had hated 
every note of commiseration ! How 
she had rebelled — and bent, under 
the blow ! Then she had been forced 
to face the different distress of the 
Hadleigh mistake — the mistake of 

believing that her high friendship for 
him was sufficient. It had taken 
what seemed like the last of her 

courage to frame the clumsy dismissal 

148 



THE GIRL <&• THE GUARDSMAN 

of his claims as a lover. But was not 
this the worst of all — to find Barton 
so poor in charity for her, ready to 
make so mean an estimate of her 
faith, ready to condemn and to stab 
without a hearing ? It was so little, 
so disenchanting. It was the old 
story. The dead in whom we believe 
are less a sorrow than the living who 
have hurt our faith. 

'' My dear ! '' 

Mr. Tibbetts revealed himself in 
a condition of restrained excitement. 
He was one of those in whom the 
counterfeit of calm is always gro- 
tesquely transparent. At the present 
moment Mr. Tibbetts was putting on 
his hat and taking it off again (for 
whatever reason, it was his silk hat), 
looking at his watch and putting the 

thing back into his pocket, slowly, 

149 



THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 

as if he were debatively relinquishing 
the minutes. 

Edith, without speaking, crossed 
the room with a dull steadiness and 
straightened her uncle's tie. 

" My dear,'* repeated Mr. Tibbetts, 
" I shall be back in a little while." 
He was looking over her shoulder. 
" I have some business in the city." 

Edith nodded and recrossed the 
room. Her uncle paused at the door. 

" I want to see you when I get 
back,'' he continued, " about — about 
a little matter. In fact, about some- 
thing of much importance." 

The girl turned with a languid 
curiosity. 

"You will be here, Edith?" 

" Yes, uncle." 

"Eh — I 'm afraid, my dear, that 

you are upset a little by this news — 

150 




'Her uncle paused 
at the door." 



THE GIRL (S- THE GUARDSMAN 

extraordinary news, is it not? — that 
Barton is back." 

" I shall get over it, uncle," she 
said quietly. 

" It is very extraordinary," repeated 
Mr. Tibbetts. 

Then Edith heard his feet stammer 
in the hall. 



151 






■■-• ^%' 



>'' 



i:-^^];; 






(Qw 




PartJ&vcn^ 







=*-^' 



'OE came into the 
studio diffidently. Joe 
had no habitual dif- 
fidence. He was not 
without his own sort 
of sensibility, but his 
imagination never an- 
ticipated disaster. With regard to 
the case of Barton, he felt that grave 
crises impended. Distressing things 
already had happened, and doubtless 
there was further trouble ahead. 
" You better eat something, after 

all, Mr. Barton," he ventured to say. 

152 



THE GIRL (5r THE GUARDSMAN 

** The band ain't playin* now, and 
you can't go with so Httle.'* 

Barton was lying on a couch in a 
corner of his studio, trying to pull 
himself together. The effort con- 
tinued to call up monumental diffi- 
culties. He felt as if the bottom 
had dropped out of the world, and 
as if he had an exceedingly insecure 
grip on the sides thereof. 

For an hour after Edith's visit he 
had been too dazed and crushed to 
think. Wounded to the quick, ex- 
asperated with fate, disappointed with 
himself, mystified by a sense of some- 
thing fantastically perverse and unreal 
in the disaster which had overwhelmed 
him, he found himself weighted by 
an unconquerable stupor. 

He had called himself many and 
y.arious hard names. He also had 

'53 



THE GIRL & THE GUARDSMAN 

made some uncomplimentary remarks 
to certain intruders. At one moment 
he called this the fever. At another 
he called it his natural depravity. 
Neither conclusion gave him any 
comfort. 

There was no gratification in abus- 
ing Gribsey, for Joe took it all with 
real grief. 

** Let me alone, Joe/' returned 
Barton to Gribsey's suggestion about 
food. **I'll be all rio-ht after a 
while." 

" Maybe," remarked Joe. *' But 
I say, when in doubt, eat." 

** By and by, Joe." 

Gribsey contemplated the soldier 
with a serious eve, as if to penetrate 
the pathologv of the situation. 

** That lady in there that paints 
cats," pursued Joe, ** says that what 

154 



THE GIRL (&- THE GUARDSMAN 

you need is something to build up 
your strength. She says you 're all 
run down.** 

"What does she suggest?'* de- 
manded Barton, in a tone that gave 
Gribsey a fresh anxiety. 

Joe faltered backward a step. 
" Baked p*taters, she says.** 

" I hate potatoes,*' growled Barton, 
" especially baked potatoes, and above 
all, baked potatoes suggested by a lady 
who paints cats.** 

"O," ejaculated Joe. "I don't 
think you're so much run down as 
you are upset. Something or other," 
put forward the janitor with a mean- 
ing emphasis, " has just knocked you 
over." 

" I guess you 're right, Joe. And 
I don't think you can do anything 
for me. Don't worry. Go and see 

155 



THE C, IRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 

quite unreadable to the janitor : ** If 
you ever happen to die, stay dead.'' 

Finding it impossible, by any un- 
aided effort of mind, to interpret 
practically the larger meanings of 
this counsel, Gribsey silently went 
away. 

In a few moments he came back. 

** A young lady from the Express 
is looking for you, Mr. Barton." 

** Tell her I 'm dead," said Barton, 
from behind the curtain of the dress- 
ing-room. 

Joe debated between a grin and a 
frown. 

** She knows you got back." 

"Tell her I was found dead — 
again — this morning." 

Joe backed to the door. ** O, well, 
she 'II want to see you, anyhow. She 's 
got a camera." 

»57 



THE GIRL (5r THE GUARDSMAN 

" Then tell her they are dressing 
the corpse and to come back in an 
hour/' 

Nevertheless, the young lady from 
the Express came back in fifteen 
minutes, and Barton, wearing a garb 
to which the exigencies of war long 
had made him a stranger, let her in. 

He recognized her as little Miss 
Price, who was not very clever, but 
who was always likably frank and 
energetic. 

"Mr. Barton!'* she cried, with 
genuine feeling. " I 'm so glad to 
see you ! " 

" Sorry to spoil your story," said 
Barton, " about the hero business 
and death among the Filipinos." 

"O, but you were a hero — and 
you are a hero more than ever now," 

insisted Miss Price. " How delighted 

158 



T II K (i I R L &■ '] H E GUARDSMAN 

all your family antl friends must be ! 
Won't you tell me all about it? 
Have you got time to tell me some- 
thing for to-day's Express?*' 

** I 'm afraid I have n't," replied 
Barton. ** You see I'm feeling pretty 
seedy yet. After the fever, you 
know " — 

** But you must tell me how you 
were captured — O, we had that ! I 
mean what they did with you and 
how you got away. Were the 
savages very cruel ? How on earth 
did they come to report you killed ? 
— I mean the officials. We had a 
dreadful half-tone of you — we have 
been working half-tones for a year 
now. They are getting up a better 
one for this afternoon. We only 
heard al^jout it this morning some- 
how. Wasn't it telegraphed at all?" 

»59 



THE GIRL <Sr THE GUARDSMAN 

" There was a mix-up/' said Bar- 
ton. " The despatches killed the 
wrong man." 

" I thought," ventured Miss Price, 
" that I might find you in your 
khaki, and that maybe I could get 
a little special portrait of you here." 

" You must let me off to-day," 
returned Barton. " I 've just shed 
my troop clothes. I 'm sick of 
them ! " 

" But you will let us have your 
belt and carbine, or something for 
the office window." 

*' If you like — if you will let that 
go instead of the story. I have n't 
the carbine, but I have my cartridge 
belt and revolver. The United States 
sold those to me." 

''Sold them to you!" cried Miss 

Price, resentfully. "The idea!" 

160 



THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 

Barton laid the trophies before her, 
and she examined them with great 
reverence. 

** You do?it look well," she said, 
a few moments later. 

** Probably not," returned Barton. 

**You will let me put down a 
few dates, won't you.?*" Miss Price 
pleaded. 

Barton quickly sketched the chron- 
ology of his military life — that 
was short work, after all. Two 
months or six months are words 
quickly said. The things they stand 
for in bodily suffering, in deferred 
hopes, in tortured patience, in bruised 
spirit, are another matter. 

Barton watched her languidly as she 

wrote in the little book, and when 

at last she had thanked him, and had 

gone, the belt, half filled with Krag 
II i6i 



r H !•: (;iRL &■ iuk (.uarosmam 

CiirtridgCvS, and the revolver under her 
arm, he threw himself into the chair 
before his writing-desk determined to 
write one or two letters. 

lie was in the middle of the lirst 
letter, when there was another knock, 
and I ladleigh came in. 

** This is very reckless, I ladleigh," 
he said, grasping his friend's hand — 
the wounded arm hung in the sling. 
** You should he in hed, I sus[)ect." 

" Nonsense, barton. It is nothing 
— though I don't take that view of 
it with regard to that young devil 
who popped at me. They 've got 
him — that's the end of that.'* 

** Not for him," suggested Marton. 

**Sit down, lladleigh. I hope you 

have n't forgotten how to he at home 

here. Have a pipe — I'll fill it for 

you." 

162 



r II f: (; I k l &- v w v. c u a R ds m a n 

** Nc-vcr iniiui (lie [)i[)c," said I I;ul- 
Icigh. ** I have n't rdorincd or any- 
tliJFiL; like that. Hut I 'm not up to 
a pipe* this morning." 

** I low s the arm ?" 

** (iood ciioui^h. li I hadn't tuni- 
hlcil hkc a fool, :nuI hied there, it 
would n't he worth mentioning. 
And if I had n't got youi' compress 
when I did I prohahly sliould have 
liad the ([ueer hick to knock under 
altogether." 

** Looks as i( Providence had n't 
finished putting us through stunts," 
sail! Harton, striding into the lai 
corner and out ol it again. 

iladleigh looked ahout him with 
something in his eyes that contra- 
dicted his voice. ** I was in heic 
one day — ahout a month i»g<>, ' lie 
said. 

i^3 



THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 

" So Joe was saying," nodded 
Barton. 

" And it gave me a lump in the 
throat, Ed, to look around the place 
and to think that you never would 
come back. I left orders once more 
that your directions should be re- 
spected, and that the place should 
be untouched until Fanter came back 
from Munich. We wrote your 
obituary, old man." 

" And said things a live man never 
can live up to." 

" I did n't see anything that was 
put on too heavy." 

" Probably," said Barton, with a 
smile, '*that picture in the Express 
— Joe had it to show me — helped 
even up things. I don't suppose you 
cou/d speak too well of a man with 

that portrait in sight." 

164 



THE GIRL <Sr THE GUARDSMAN 

** All outrage,'* muttered Hadleigh. 

" I am to be done again to-day," 
Barton added. ** Writ up, and drawn 
— limb from limb — and my toys 
hung in the window. We are 
whooping things, Hadleigh, for you 
will be in, too, with the would-be 
assassin. Think of it. I am to play 
two roles — the returned hero and 
the rescuer. Could anything be 
more engaging — more completely 
satisfying ? " 

** I see you are not well yet, 
Barton." 

'* I 'm well enough." 

** If they would only let well 
enough alone. Here I am bother- 
ing you like the rest." 

Barton shook his head protestingly. 

** I guess you know how welcome 

you are, Hadleigh." 

165 



THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 

"When I was here that day/' 
Hadleigh then went on, ** I had the 
curiosity to Uft the curtain from the 
picture here. I had seen it before, 
you remember. It did n't mean the 
same thing then. The situation had 
changed — very much." 

Barton was silent, though he 
moved his head protestingly. 

" Barton," continued Hadleigh, 
looking straight before him into the 
corner, *' there is something I have 
come to speak to you about. Of 
course we could n't get at it yester- 
day very well. I was your friend, 
and I am your friend, and I have 
the rights of a friend. So I am here 
now." 

Barton twisted in his chair. 

** When you went away to Manila," 
said Hadleigh, still speaking into the 

i66 



THE GIRL <5r THE GUARDSMAN 

corner, ** you were engaged to be 
married to Edith Lynwood." 

Barton got up, wrenching the 
chair with his hand. ** Hadleigh," 
he returned firmly, " you were my 
friend, and you are my friend, and 
you will please change the subject." 

*' No, Barton, you must not ask 
that. There is something I have 
come to say. I have the right to 
say it. I shall say it." 

" Even at my expense, Hadleigh .? 
Even if I insist that I have the right 
to ask you not to say it ? " 

Hadleigh faced about in his chair. 
** Look here. Barton, some things 
won't wait for settlement. And 
there are other rights than yours 
and mine." 

" As for that, Hadleigh, those 

other rights will not be imperilled 

167 



THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 

by your silence at this time. I 
know all that you would say to 
me. Believe me, those things need 
not be said. The occasion is past.'' 

Barton had seated himself on the 
edge of the couch. 

'' Past ? '' Hadleigh looked up. 
** Past .? How can the occasion be 
past?" 

" Nevertheless/' retorted Barton, 
sternly, " it is past." 

" Suppose I thought differently. 
Barton." Hadleigh arose and lifted 
his hand. " I see that you are not 
well to-day. Barton. God knows, 
you have had a tough time of it. 
I understand " — 

" You would do wrong to think 
differently," broke in the other, his 
face white. " You should take my 
word — without forcing me to say 

i68 




'I 



^ .t 



THE GIRL & THE GUARDSMAN 

more. I have spoken very plainly. 
I have said that — that there is 
nothing to be said." 

For several moments there was 
silence between them. Barton was 
breathing heavily. Hadleigh stood 
near the veiled portrait, his eyes set 
upon the tortured face of his friend. 
Then he spoke again. 

" Barton, I went to see her this 
morning. It was very early. I 
had n't been able to sleep — not for 
the arm, but for thinking of this 
thing. She was not at home. The 
girl did n't know where she had 
gone, but I got it into my head 
somehow that she had come here." 

** She did come here." 

** And if she came here," pro- 
ceeded Hadleigh, resolutely, ** her 

coming was not without a meaning 

169 



THE GIRL <&- THE GUARDSMAN 

— a meaning which I have the right 



to read. Though I were not your 
friend, Barton, I still should not 
wish to claim the hand of a girl 
who loved another. She loves you. 
Barton " — 

" Hadleigh, listen to me." Bar- 
ton arose, his arms crossed. " You 
have claimed the rights of a friend. 
You have urged other rights than 
your own. Consider, then, whether 
you are acting the part of reason and 
justice and friendship in refusing to 
listen to me when I, who confess to 
having seen her, tell you that you have 
no occasion to place this matter be- 
fore me, that — that you are mis- 
taken, mistaken^ understand me, in 
questioning her love for you." 

Hadleigh stirred as if to speak, but 

the other checked him. 

170 



THE GIRL (S- THE GUARDSMAN 

** I have loved her, Hadleigh, and 
vSurely that gives me the right to 
demand of you an unquestioning 
fulhlment of all — all that lies in 
your pledge to her." Barton made 
an authoritative gesture. *' Can't you 
see the cruelty of discussing this with 
me r 

** I can see but one thing," re- 
turned Hadleigh evenly, with some- 
thing both of pity and of defiance in 
his tone, ** and that is that I have 
come between you. If I am privi- 
leged to love her, Barton, I am 
privileged to resent the thought of a 
stigma, of any accidental advantage. 
I am not blind. I know what has 
gone before. I know that you are not 
a man to love lightly. I know that 
you are not a man whom any woman 
would love lightly. I know what 

i7« 



THE GIRL <5r THE GUARDSMAN 

a blunder in such a matter must 
mean for everybody, not only for 
the man and the woman, but for 

— for the other man. You choose 
to ask the impossible — something 
that you would n't ask of an enemy 

— that he should pass over, put aside, 
ignore what can't be ignored '* — 

" Look here, Hadleigh/' Barton 
came over and put his hands on the 
other's shoulders. " I understand 
you. I thank you. I believe you 
are my friend. You are worthy of 
more than friendship. But look at 
me. Am I fit to be reasoned with ? 
Am I fit to give or to take ? Just 
drop me to-day. You are doing 
yourself an injustice — you are doing 
us all an injustice. What has hap- 
pened, has happened. Each of us 

has his duty. In God's name let us 

172 



THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 

find it if we can. But leave it to 
me to say that now is not the time. 
Believe me when I tell you : she has 
spoken." 

** She has spoken ? " repeated 
Hadleigh. 

*' Yes," affirmed Barton. 

Hadleigh bowed his head, then 
held out his hand. 

When presently he turned to go 
he found Mr. Tibbetts standing 
uneasily on the threshold. 



^73 




R. TIBBETTS ex- 
perienced a mo- 
ment of awkward 
suspense on en- 
countering Barton. 
Perhaps he had 
expected to re- 
hearse some things 
a little further before formally knock- 
ing at the door. There had been 
time for rehearsal, too, but no one 
possibly can tell just what he wishes 
or requires to say until he faces the 
menace of a door. 

174 




THE GIRL & THE CiUARDSMAN 

On the hallway side of Barton's 
door hung a slate and a tethered 
pencil. When you knocked and 
got no answer you were at liberty to 
leave your written card on the slate ; 
and, it you suspected his unanswering 
presence, you might add, in a bold, 
indignant hand that he was an un- 
grateful, unsociable, deceiving scoun- 
drel or other mild reproach for his 
silence, and go away. 

Mr. Tibbetts stood looking at the 
slate tor fully two minutes, and 
might have endured three before 
detiantly knocking, had not Hadleigh 
opened the door to go out. 

" Good-morning," said Barton, in 
a voice that did not increase Mr. 
Tibbetts's personal comfort. ** Have 
a chair." 

** Good-morning, Barton," returned 
^7S 



THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 

the visitor, with a furtive glance at 
the artist as he said a last w^ord to 
Hadleigh in the hall. 

" Fine morning/' resumed Barton, 
as he turned back. His tone was 
sufficient to lower the temperature. 

"Yes," admitted Mr. Tibbetts 
taking tentative possession of the 
extreme edge of one of Barton's 
dwarfed black chairs, " though a little 
cool, I think, for this time of year." 

" Is it ? I had n't noticed," re- 
marked Barton, striking a match 
sullenly. " I 'm mixed on all weather 
propositions — been in so many 
longitudes and latitudes — and lost 
the track of seasons so long that I 
can't measure up the weather any 
more." 

" Yes," ventured the visitor. 

** That 's natural too — quite natural. 

176 



THE GIRL 5r THE GUARDSMAN 

I — I hope you are feeling very well. 
Barton." 

** I can't say/' replied the younger 
man, ** that I am in the pink of con- 
dition. I have felt better, though I 
am doing fairly. Possibly I owe 
you an apology, Mr. Tibbetts, for 
my continued health." 

** Don't be hard on me, Barton. 
I have had a bad night. This thing 
took, a turn I did not expect, and I 
did not think the consequences could 
be so — so serious. I would make 
amends if I could. Please God, I 
shall make amends. It is n't too 
late — at least I hope it is n't too 
late." 

Barton shifted his feet and stared 

into the bowl of his pipe. ** I don't 

see what amends you can make, Mr. 

Tibbetts. I don't understand. Your 
II 177 



THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 

anxiety to keep me out of sight 
until twelve o'clock to-day was un- 
necessary after all/' 

" Ah, Barton ! you never will 
understand how I intended that. 
You make it appear very brutal. It 
was just an impulse, you know. It 
did n't seem at the first as if it could 
make any great difference — how 
could I know that it would make 
any difference ? And you did n't 
listen to me — no, I'm not saying 
a word of blame." 

" You are right," admitted Barton, 
" I did n't listen to you." 

" Listen to me now, Barton. I so 
despised myself for that selfish weak- 
ness " — 

" Don't speak of it, Mr. Tibbetts." 

** I will speak of it. Barton. I 

must tell you that I sent a message 

178 



THE GIRL (S- THE GUARDSMAN 

this niorning declining the election. 
I could n't i'jring myself " — 

** I 'ni sorrv," declared Barton. 
** YoLi can't mend anything by giving 
Lip a great business opportunity. You 
should think of — of Edith." 

** Yes, I know, Barton ; it is like you 
to put it that way. iiut she never 
would forgive me if she knew " — 

** Nonsense," Barton interposed, 
** why should she know ? What 
difference does it make — now ? It 
looks to me, Mr. Tibbetts, as if you 
were going to a lot of useless trouble 
to make yourself miserable." 

The old man was twisting his hat 
between his hands. ** Nevertheless," 
he proceeded, with a narrow scru- 
tiny of the artist, ** I have made my 
decision. Now I have come to ask 
you a favor." 

/ »79 



THE GIRL (S- THE GUARDSMAN 

" Well/' said Barton, getting up, 
not without a sign of impatience, 
" if it is something short of suicide I 
believe I will grant it this time, just 
to change my luck/' 

" I want you. Barton," Mr. Tib- 
betts continued, hewing to the mark, 
" I want you to help me straighten 
out this — this " — 

** Straightening out, Mr. Tibbetts, 
does n't seem to be exactly in my 
line just now. I think perhaps you 
are laboring under an error " — 

" It is you. Barton, who are labor- 
ing under an error. My boy, you 
are on the wrong track." This was 
accompanied by a constrained effort 
to smile. " The wrong track, my 
boy." 

" I 'm not on any track," retorted 
Barton. " I 'm off the track, down 

i8o 



THE GIRL (S- THE GUARDSMAN 

the embankment, head on, tele- 
scoped, deep in the mud." 

" Wait a moment. Barton, wait a 
moment. I say you are wrong. \'ou 
have made a mistake. She has made 
a mistake. It 's a ridiculous mess of 
a mistake all the way through. I 
can prove it. I shall prove it. You 
shall let me prove it." 

** Prove it ? Prove what ? " 

** Barton, you must come with 
me — 

" Not to the " — 

" Yes, to the house. — Hold on ! 
You shall come with me and let me 
prove " — 

Both men were standing, the older 
with a flushed face and an importun- 
ing hand extended ; the younger 
showing a kind of wearied scorn with 
something of a fierce humor. 

i8i 



THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 

"Really, Mr. Tibbetts," inter- 
rupted Barton, " I find it hard to fol- 
low you. You are so unexpected. 
We each have our own notion of a 
joke. I somehow lost your point yes- 
terday. To-day you are even more 
perplexing. Why not let the matter 
drop ? I 'm not holding any grudge 
against you. I have annoyed you by 
being alive when I should have stayed 
dead. If I had it all to do again I 
should try to arrange it differently. 
But that can't be helped now. You 
have agreed not to hold any grudge 
against me. I ask nothing of you. 
Why not let the case rest there ? " 

The old man drew his lips to- 
gether and glared at Barton, with a 
moist fury. 

" Damn it. Barton ! Don't you 

understand ! I tell you this whole 

182 



THF GIRL & THE GUARDSMAN 

thing's a mistake. Edith was under 
a misapprehension — and you were 
all wrong — and — but you won't 
believe me. I can do better. I 
can pr(we it. But I must ask you 
to come with me. Is that unreason- 
able ? Is proof so unimportant to 
you ? Are you so tremendously 
happy that'' — 

" O, you could n't fancy how soli- 
citous every one is for my comfort 
and happiness," flung Barton, strik- 
ing another match. " It has touched 
me deeply." 

Mr. Tibbetts stood hopelessly si- 
lent for a moment, still twisting his 
hat. 

** Barton, do you mean to say " — 

The artist interrupted him. ** Mr. 
Tibbetts, if you have any regret for 
anything that you have done — 

183 



THE GIRL <Sr THE GUARDSMAN 

though I assure you I can't see how 
you are to blame for — anything that 
has happened — why, ask me some 
other sort of favor." 

" You refuse to go. Barton ? " 

The younger man shrugged his 
shoulders. " You must not ask me 
to go, Mr. Tibbetts. I never could 
straighten out anything for you. 
I 'm not feeling that way just now. 
I 'd only make everything worse for 
you.'' 

Mr. Tibbetts walked to the door 
with a quick step, his hands behind 
him. He paused for a few seconds 
under the Turkish blade. Then he 
caught at the door and went out 
quickly. 

Once in the street he proceeded 
to take a turn around the square. 

He must think of some other way 

184 



THE GIRL & THE GUARDSMAN 

ot reaching Barton. The one sure 
way to make matters right was to 
bring them together — Edith and 
Barton — somehow. But what was 
to be done with a fellow so incor- 
rigible as Barton ? The very man 
who most needed a convincing dem- 
onstration of his error was the man 
who would not make the conditions 
possible. 

During Mr. Tibbetts's circuit of the 
vsquare, and while Barton stood at the 
door pondering grimly upon the gro- 
tesque procession of his day's visitors, 
and how, indeed, he might hope to 
hnd the peace that seemed to have 
gone from him beyond recall, there 
was another tap on the door. He 
nervously started, frowned at his 
weakness and stood rebelliously 

motionless, determined in the first 

iSs 



THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 

moment to refer this new intruder 
to the slate. 

The tap was repeated shortly with 
a sharp interrogatory emphasis that 
seized his attention and held it. 
Something in the sound made him 
think it had been produced by a 
woman. 

However this feeling may have 
influenced him, he suddenly growled, 
" Come in ! '* 

It was Amanda Maud, wearing the 
same light dress she had worn the 
day before, and a curiously casual, 
boyish soft hat, in which there was an 
adjustment purely Amanda's own. 

Amanda did not seem startled to 
find Barton at the brink of the room, 
his hand against the wall, looking 
quietly at her as she came out of 
the passage. 

1 86 




// u'Js /linaihlj 
Maiidy 



THE GIRL <&- THE GUARDSMAN 

** Ci()t)d-inc)rning/' said Amanda. 

** (jood-morning,*' returned Bar- 
ton, without moving. ** The artist 
IS in. 

** So I see," ventured Amanda. 
" Don't you think you could ask 
me in for just a minute?" 

" You've got to come in," declared 
Barton. ** I Ve been wishing you 'd 
come. It has been so dull here 
to-day." 

Amanda measured him with her 
undismayed eyes. He was pretty 
hard to understand. 

** I just dropped in," she said, *' to 
say that" — 

" Don't apologize," insisted Bar- 
ton. '' It 's all right." 

** Is it ? " She watched him as he 
searched through the pigeon-holes 

of the old desk for something which 

187 



THE GIRL & THE GUARDSMAN 

it had occurred to him to look for. 
" Well, I wanted to say, if you '11 
excuse me, that you 're an awful fool." 

Barton turned about slowly. 

" Now, do you know," he said, 
'* I am hardly prepared to contradict 
you." 

" You know what I mean," went 
on Amanda, " any man might be 
taken that way." 

'* In that case," said Barton, turn- 
ing again to the pigeon-holes, " I 
need n't take the thing as so per- 
sonal, I needn't feel so badlv." 

"I don't want to make nobody 
feel bad," said Amanda, " and I 
know it ain't none of my business, 
but I just took it into my head " — 

" To come and tell me I was a 
fool," returned Barton. " It is very 
pleasant and thoughtful of you." 

i88 



THK GIKL &- THE GUARDSMAN 

** C), wait ! " commanded the girl, 
** I did come to vsay that, hecause you 
are. 1 guess you know you are. 
Vou don't suppose I 'd ever believe 
she was wrong, do you ? " 

The girl walked to the middle of 
the rioor. Barton faced her, a ming- 
ling of annoyance and amusement in 
his eyes. It came to him to wonder 
at the moment whether everything 
that was happening actually had a 
fantastic flavor, or whether his ab- 
n(^rmal condition was twisting the 
ordinary and reasonable into these 
peculiar shapes. 

** Go on," he said. " You Ve 
come to say something. Say it. 
I 'm listening, and I 'm very much 
interested." 

** I know how you men are," pur- 
sued Amanda, with some sign of 

189 



THE GIRL <5r THE GUARDSMAN 

debate as to her procedure. ** You 
get a thing into your head and 
nobody can get it out. You can't 
get it out yourselves. It just gets 
wedged in.'' 

"Well?" queried Barton. "Is 
this what you came to tell me?" 

"Yep," said Amanda, shortly, — 
" and to hand you this." 

Barton stared at the locket which 
she placed in his palm. It was the 
locket. 

" What do you mean ? " he de- 
manded. " Did n't you " — then he 
checked himself. She must have 
delivered it, for Edith had held it. 

" It seems to me," remarked 

Amanda by a master stroke of 

evasion, "that if I was a man, 

and I had a locket handed to me 

like this, and I was told to come, I 

190 



THK GIRL (5r THE GUARDSMAN 

would know by that that I was 
to come." 

** Do you mean " — began Barton. 

But Amanda could trust herself no 
further. She had reached the end 
of her device, and she tied without 
another syllable, leaving Barton to 
stare at the little gleaming symbol 
in his hand. 

The haste of Amanda's departure 
might well have been attended with 
serious consequences, for in the dim 
light of the landing she ran full 
against Mr. Tibbetts. It was only 
by the quick strength of her own 
plump right hand that a real catas- 
trophe was averted. 

" Amanda ! " was all that the old 
man had breath to say as he peered 
after her into the depths of the stair- 
way. 

191 



THE GIRL (Sr- THE GUARDSMAN 

Barton heard the scuffle through 
his open door, though in the sudden 
whirl of a new and startHng thought 
it may scarcely be said to have defi- 
nitely drawn his attention. 

The locket and a summons ! This 
was as absurdly grotesque as all the 
rest. 

When Mr. Tibbetts, panting from 
the climb and the collision, and a 
trifle dishevelled, strode to the execu- 
tion of his last appeal, determined to 
lay everything before Barton, he 
found the artist incomprehensibly 
paused with his back to the door. 

" Barton" — began the old man. 

The artist slipped something into 
the pocket of his coat, strode across 
the studio and reached for a hat that 
hung upon a deer's antlers. The hat 

was covered with dust, and Barton 

192 



THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 

Struck it across the edge of the couch, 
then brushed it absently with his 
sleeve. 

** Mr. Tibbetts,'* he said when he 
had faced about, ** I should like to 
go out home with you, if you don't 
mind." 



«3 '93 




Pail? 




ziie 




T was Amanda Maud's con- 
viction that she had left 
the house unobserved on 
this sensational excursion. 
But the supposition was 
inaccurate. Edith saw her 
steal across the garden and out of the 
lane gate. She also saw the girl 
return after an inexplicable hour ; 
and presently Amanda took occasion 
to be audibly and visibly present 
about the house. Her transition to 

194 



THE GIRL &- THE ("xUARDSMAN 

the house dress was one of those 
paradoxes of feminine celerity over 
which even Edith might have mar- 
velled had she been more alert to 
impressions. 

The fact is that Amanda's departure 
had aroused neither her curiosity nor 
her resentment — it was absence with- 
out leave — for at the moment Edith 
was incapable of holding a normal 
attitude toward anything that passed 
about her. Since the initial catas- 
trophe of the day before, when, after 
a period of wretched debate, she 
had, as she believed, sent Hadleigh 
away, perhaps in anger, a harsh un- 
reality had begun to appear in every- 
thing that happened. Barton's first 
note regarding Hadleigh's injuries, 
scrawled on the back of her own 
paper, which lay on the hall table 

'95 



THE GIRL <&- THE GUARDSMAN 

when she came in after a half-hour's 
absence, produced an effect which 
its writer could not have expected. 
It was simply incredible. Indeed, 
it evoked an hysterical laugh. It 
was the note with the locket which 
Amanda handed to her so soon after, 
that completed the circuit of this 
terrible new reality and left her dazed 
and helpless. 

She went to her writing table and 
read again the lines he had sent to 
her. 

I no longer have the right to carry this 
trinket. If, in sending it back, I am 
tempted to say that in all my suffering it 
has been a sign to me of something to 
which it now seems that I was wrong in 
holding fast, you must not take this for 
reproach or bitterness. I should have 
fallen without it. I must not forget 
that. What you have done you have 

196 



THE GIRL Sr THE GUARDSMAN 

believed to he right. I must not forget 
that cither. 

Edwin Barton. 

This was what she had lived with 
for the whole of a night, until the 
deliberate dawn released her to the 
action of another day. When she 
had stolen away to the studio, it was 
to verify by the contact of her senses 
the incredible tragedy of this change. 

After that everything had ended. 
Nothing was what it had been. She 
did not recognize herself. Amanda, 
watching her stealthily, plainly was 
caught up by the whimsical current 
of the transformation. Uncle Amos 
was a parody of himself. 

The hall clock was striking noon 
when PMith found herself pinning on 
her hat. She was startled by her 
own face in the mirror. When she 

•97 



THE GIRL & THE GUARDSMAN 

reached the porch she knew that she 
was going to see Hadleigh. Some- 
how that had begun to seem like a 
duty. She had humiHated herself to 
Barton. She herself would follow 
the sympathetic note she had sent to 
Hadleigh. She would contradict, at 
whatever cost, any suspicion Hadleigh 
might have of her want of feeling ; 
she would show him that if friend- 
ship could fall into error, it could be 
steadfast, that if it hurt in being true 
to itself, it could bind up the result- 
ing wound with an affectionate and 
a patient hand. 

After all, Hadleigh was not at 
home. His mother, looking into 
Edith's white face, said he had in- 
sisted on going into the city, and 
possibly had gone from there to the 

works. They had regretted not 

198 




''Nothing wjs -what 
it bad becnr 



THE GIRL £r THE GUARDSMAN 

being able to detain him. Would n't 
Edith sit down a while ? 

No, she had come to ask after his 
wound. Evidently he was better. 
But he should be careful. 

As briefly as might be, Edith re- 
ceived Mrs. Hadleigh's motherly 
questioning, met the motherly eyes 
that read the trouble behind her 
own, and turned homeward again 
her heart deadly heavy, her head 
throbbing. 

" She is n't quiet a minute ! " mur- 
mured Amanda at the dining-room 
window when she saw Edith at the 
gate. " Somebody '11 just have to 
put her to bed." 

Mr. Tibbetts and Barton came out 
on the trolley. 

Mr. Tibbetts became more and 
more chipper in a momentum of 

•99 



THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 

altruistic satisfaction. It seemed to 
him that he looked over at the 
chimneys of the works without a 
twinge. He had made a great sac- 
rifice, but he had made a splendid 
atonement. 

He poured out upon Barton a 
flood of local gossip without observ- 
ing that the artist yielded but indif- 
ferent attention to the narrative. 
From gossip he turned to reminis- 
cence, and he was in the midst of a 
joke — rather disjointedly put for- 
ward — about the time they went 
fishing over to Pine Lake, when they 
came in sight of the house. 

At this Mr. Tibbetts's genial ex- 
citement visibly rose. 

" Barton, you '11 be in time for 

dinner ! — we still dine in the middle 

of the day, you know.'* 

200 



THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 

Barton was enigmatically silent. 

** O, I 've got a surprise for you, 
my boy ! Going to do it my own 
way. No wrangling, no argument, 
no trying to force you to understand. 
Just you wait." 

** I 've been sufficiently surprised," 
was all that Barton would say to this. 
He did not trust Tibbetts. He would 
not — at least on that day — have ac- 
cepted entry into the finest prospect 
the old man might have promised 
to him. But the locket . . . 

Mr. Tibbetts had not planned the 
details of his atoning interview. He 
was too confident to feel the need for 
any subtlety of approach. Undoubt- 
edly it was, in the legal phrase, 
simply a case of bringing the parties 
together. 

" Edith ! Where are you ? " he all 

20 1 



THE GIRL ^ THE GUARDSMAN 

but shouted as soon as they were 
within the house. 

Amanda stood at the top of the 
stair. *' Miss Edith's in the sitting- 
room, Mr. Tibbetts." 

Barton winced at Tibbetts's exuber- 
ant precipitation. Yet this was a 
contradictory emotion, for, now that 
he was in the house, now that he 
stood so near her again, he could 
have brushed the old man aside and 
sprung into her presence without 
weighing anything. 

As it was, he fell behind Tibbetts, 
saw the old man part the curtains, 
and heard him call his niece's name 
again. 

** Yes, uncle." 

The girl answered absently, expect- 
ing nothing more exciting or momen- 
tous than some fretful inquiry. 

202 



THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 

But Mr. Tihbetts went on in a 
restfiiined excitement which could 
not at once have appeared to the 
girl. ** I^dith, I wish to say a word 
to you about yesterday." 

" I wish you would not speak of 
it, uncle," was her wearily resent- 
ful answer, and Barton longed for 
the privilege of projecting some 
large, heavy object at the old man's 
head. 

** I must, Edith," continued Mr. 
Tibbetts, crossing and recrossing the 
room. ** A great injustice has been 
done and I am to blame?" 

" You, uncle ? " 

Edith, her chin on her hand, was 
staring out of the window. 

The old man turned to make a 
gesture which commanded Barton to 

enter the room. His face wore a 

203 



THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 

gayety of excitement reflecting his 
estimate of this procedure as a stroke 
of genius. 

" You told him, Edith," pursued 
Mr. Tibbetts, coming close to her 
and finally taking a seat near by, 
" you told him that you could not 
receive him again as your lover, that 
you could not marry him, because " — 

'* Because I did not love him, 
uncle." 

** Yes, yes, and you went further." 

*' I said that I really had loved but 
one man " — 

" Yes, Edith." 

" And that I never could love any 
but him." 

** Ah, yes, but he did n't hear you 
say that, because he went away, which 
was very foolish of him, very foolish, 

and entirely to his own blame. No- 

204 



THE GIRL S- THE GUARDSMAN 

body told him to go. And, Edith, 
— I want to have this very plain — 
when you spoke of the one man — 
the one man you really had loved 
you know " — Mr. Tibbetts put his 
hand gently upon her arm — " you 
meant " — 

** I meant my soldier." 

** Barton, yes, yes. Then you were 
talking to " — 

Edith turned her drawn face toward 
that ot her uncle. ** Why are you 
rambling in this way, uncle? Did 
you not see Marcus go?" 

** Then you were sending away 
Hadleigh — Hadleigh, whom you 
had expected to meet " — 

** I was telling him that I did not 
love him, uncle — and to think that 
he should go away in that mood and 
be hurt ! " 

205 



THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 

Mr. Tibbetts felt rather than saw 
Barton's movement. He sprang up. 

" But suppose, my dear, suppose 
that it was not Hadleigh who heard 
you, suppose that an old scoundrel of 
an uncle who did n't intend it, but 
somehow did do it, let you think that 
it was Hadleigh, and that it was " — 

She had caught the look in his 
eye, and drew herself tremblingly 
out of the chair until she discovered 
Barton, pale, stupefied, in the middle 
of the floor. 

" Edwin ! " 

" My God ! " cried Barton, with 
something like a sob as he caught 
her. ** Then all of my fever dreams 
are over ! " 

He held her strongly as if in a 

sudden fear that it was a trick, kissing 

her lips, her eyes, her hair. 

206 



THE GIRL &■ THE GUARDSMAN 

** Ahem ! " came from Mr. Tibbetts. 

F^or an instant Barton, imprisoning 
Edith's head on his shoulder, looked 
over at the old man. 

** Go on. Barton," urged Tibbetts 
catching the look. '* Don't spare 
my feelings. Say it — say what you 
are thinking of me — I am a damned 
scoundrel." 

But somehow Barton only smiled 
and kissed Edith again, after putting 
her away at arm's length for a 
moment, and drawing her close once 
more in an ecstasy of possession. 

** You have spoken, uncle," said 
Edith with the old twinkle in her 
eyes that made Barton to under- 
stand that she was a dream come 
true. 

** Though I will say " — began 
Uncle Amos at the door. 



20 ■ 



THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 

" Yes, I know," nodded Barton. 

And Uncle Amos quietly went 
out. 

Almost at the same moment, 
Amanda Maud, suspiciously unem- 
barrassed, appeared at the other 
door. 

" O, dear ! " she cried, " that fool 
of a Joe Gribsey 's gone and forgotten 
this letter, and it was tremenjus im- 
portant, Mr. Tibbetts said." 

Barton held out his hand for the 
letter Amanda had found on the back 
porch, upon which the sitting-room 
windows opened. It bore the address 
of the Fordwell Company. 

^* When did he give it to Joe?" 
asked Barton. 

" This morning — about an hour 
and a half ago, I guess. He told 

him it was in a hurry and would n't 

208 



THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 

he no use unless it was delivered 
before twelve o'clock." 

** I see," said Barton, tearing up 
the unopened letter. *' It 's after 
twelve o'clock now — and this is 
better than Uncle Amos deserves." 

** Did I hear my name?" asked 
Uncle Amos, returning. 

"You did," admitted Barton. " I 
was saying that it is better than you 
deserve. There is your declination 
of the Vice-Presidency in small 
pieces on the floor. It is after 
twelve o'clock, and you are elected. 
So am I. Let us forget everything 
that is disagreeable." 

** My dear boy," cried Uncle Amos, 
coming forward with outstretched 
hands. 

" It 's all right," said Barton. " The 

world's coming to its old senses." 
14 209 



THE GIRL &- THE GUARDSMAN 

" Shall we go in to dinner ? " asked 
Edith. " Of course I can't eat " — 

It was thus that Barton came to 
dine in his old place, with Edith to 
look at, as on that day before he 
joined his troop. There was so 
much to talk about that Amanda 
Maud found occasion to remark to 
herself that some folks did n't seem 
to know what victuals were for. 
Uncle Amos repeatedly sought to 
reassure himself that everything was, 
as Barton had said, *' all right." 

" You can see how it happened. 
Barton ! " he would say. 

It was while they had the grapes 
that Uncle Amos was observed sud- 
denly to have become very quiet. 

" What are you thinking about, 
uncle?" demanded Edith. 

" I was just thinking, my dear, 

2IO 



THE GIRL &- THE GUARPSMAN 

that your mother was married in 
October." 

Edith huighed a soft, happy laugh, 
and Harton getting up quickly, came 
around the table and kissed her three 
times. 

Hadleigh walked up the path with 
something of the soldier tread, a res- 
olute look in his face. 

They saw him from the library win- 
dow. Edith, rising quickly, placed 
her hand on Barton's shoulder to in- 
dicate that he should remain where 
he was, and hurried to the door. 

Presently — Barton could not have 
measured the interval, for his thoughts 
went wide as the minutes ran — 
they came back together, Edith and 
Hadleiirh. 

Without a word the two men 



2 I I 



THE GIRL (Sr THE GUARDSMAN 

clasped hands. Then Hadleigh spoke. 
" I have just been telling Edith," he 
said, with a shadowed smile, " that the 
Company wishes me to make a trip 
to Oregon. Just as soon as this arm 
is well I shall be going." 

** And I have been telling him," 
murmured Edith, speaking to Barton, 
her hand resting gently on Hadleigh' s 
arm, '* that near or far he always will 
be the noblest of friends." 




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